Return To Me
by CharLit-le
Summary: Clary Fray has lost her memory. Simple as that. No memory of Jace, Isabelle or her other life. She moves to California to start again with new friends and even a boy friend. Yet when her memories start coming back, what will happen?
1. His Look

_Hello everybody! This is my attempt at any actual continueing story that is all my own unlike the joint one I am doing with my friend, so please don't hate. I'm not sure if this is going to work, though if you guys like it then I'll try best. :) I wrote this in the two hour car ride to Orlando from where we were staying in Florida, I'm back in cold and miserable Canada now. 8) So, I hope you enjoy? The inspiration was the song Return to me. _

_Oh yes... lost my thought... Shall I go to the disclaimer and see if I regain it? I REMEMBER! This is set after COG under new circumstance though. You'll see, I don't want to explain it here. Read and enjoy. :)_

DISCLAIMER: So yeah, I don't own anything. :( 

* * *

The sky stretched impossibly before me, blue acres spreading miles and miles. I took a deep breath of the fresh ocean air, closing my dusty eyelids to shield them from the sun. The sand twisted beneath my feet, morphing into new piles with every shift of my weight.

"Clare?"

I sighed, letting the ghostly smile that had been placed on my face fall. A familiar arm wound around my waist. It felt wrong there, as though my entire body was telling me to push it away. I didn't. Instead, I leaned back towards my boy friend of a year, not understanding the disappointment I felt at the alien arm.

"Clare-bear, why'd you come down here?" Will asked, running his hand up and down my cold arm.

"Um, I..." but the words would not come. I had been walking towards his house when I had felt a strong pull to the beach below it. Before I knew it I was scaling the rocks and scraping up my knees to just stand here on the sand.

"Whatever," He dismissed, a grin playing on his lips, "Do you want to take a walk or something?"

I nodded my head, swallowing back the feeling of familiarity that this place held. It looked like any other beach except for the fact it was smaller. There was just something about the water, the smooth mirror of water that drew me forward. In the rapidly setting sun, I felt the familiar tendrils of something in the pit of my stomach that I could not identify.

Ever since my mom and I had moved to the out skirts of California, I'd been plagued with these moments of tingling at the back of my mind. Just a few minutes where I could feel something screaming at me to remember it, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't. I never could.

I had tried to talk to my mom about it, but any time I mentioned the word 'remember' she got all white. I understood why she wanted to leave New York with Uncle Luke and everything that had happened between them. Then there was the fire at our apartment... I had guessed that was what she was talking about but it was just so weird.

Even weirder was the fact that she had suddenly loosened up with me going out all the time. Back in New York she'd barley let me go a block away but here? I could come in and out as I pleased. I gave up trying to talk about it though, she was happier here so I'd try.

Then I'd met Will, Zoe and her brother Christopher. Whenever I was near them I felt this trilling in my heart. They were nice and accepted me fondly, especially when Will and I started dating. It was natural. Yet, lately whenever Will would touch me I'd feel something that wasn't right. As if... he was doing it all wrong.

Then there were the dreams, but I didn't tell anyone about those.

"You excited to get back to school?" Will interrupted my thoughts, kicking at the loose pebbles on the beach aimlessly.

"Yeah, I guess," I replied robotically.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice waning on concern.

"Err, yeah! I'm just tired," I told him, guilt making me blush. I don't know what was with me lately. I felt bad about making him worry and no doubt that Zoe and Chris had also seen.

"We should probably get back, Zoe will kill us if we're late for the previews, I don't get her fascination with those," he smiled, shaking out his dark curls.

"What movie are we seeing again?" I inquired, as we veered towards the stairs up the cliff that I had some how missed.

"Some chick flick or other," he shrugged, chuckling at the push I gave him.

"You never did tell me, did you date anyone back in the big apple?" he asked, surprising me. I couldn't help but smile at the way he popped the p's.

I opened my mouth to answer and found nothing coming to mind except this odd feeling of excitement. I didn't know why, but my heart beat sped up at this feeling and I saw a brief flash of something unplaceable in my eyes. Gold.

"Clare?" he prodded, nudging me gently as we continued to climb. I felt a nice sort of burn in my calves that distracted me from the odd feeling.

"A few here and there, nothing serious," I answered slowly, trying not to think to much of my answer. It sounded completely fake, but Will was never payed enough attention to my words to know when I was lying. He had no reason to suspect I would so why should he be suspicious anyway? At least, that's what I told myself.

"Good," he smiled possessively, putting a hand around my waist and pulling me towards him.

I held back a grimace, plastering a smile on my face instead.

"And why is that good?" I challenged, feeling the familiar burning feeling in my heart that told me that this rebellion was right, good.

"Cause it means you're all mine, forever and always," he told me, kissing my temple roughly. I shivered, why did it feel so wrong?

"And you're mine right?" I asked weakly.

"For as long as I want to be," he said, making me grit my teeth.

Seeing my anger, he sighed before smacking his lips into mine.

That's when it hit me, that urge to pull away, that feeling that told me it was not right, not proper what we were doing. That moment where I saw the flash of gold in front of me and a sort of humming in my ears. I was suddenly very cold, though his arms surrounded me gently. I resisted these urges, not wanting to hurt the boy that held me.

I felt him pull back with an embarrassing smacking sound, before grinning triumphantly and shaking me a little with the hand that surrounded me. I bore with it, though inside my body was screaming. Some thing was seriously wrong with me.

* * *

"Hey Clare," Chris smiled, leaning over Zoe to smile kindly at me. I grinned back, popping a piece of pop corn into my mouth and holding back a grin at Zoe's annoyed glare. She held the pop corn away from my me, chastising both her brother and I for our decorum.

"You two are impossible," she breathed, giving up by bringing the pot of buttery goodness back onto her lap. I smiled as I took another mouth full.

"Where were you this evening anyway, Clare? I was calling you for advice on whether to wear my dark jeans or light," Zoe whispered, eyes accusing.

"Those look fine," I said in way of answer, nodding towards the ones she was wearing.

"Ugh, I thought coming from New York you'd have more of a fashion sense," she groaned, kicking up her heeled boots to rest on the chair in front of us.

The person that sat in that chair turned around angrily, but upon seeing her stern expression he backed down, sinking lower in his seat. Zoe muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously nasty before popping a single kernel in her mouth.

"Sorry Zo," I chuckled, sitting back in my seat.

"Do you like my new heels?" she asked, motioning towards her elevated feet.

"They look just like your other hundred of pairs Zoe," I rolled my eyes, searching the crowds for Will. He had gone out to get some licorice and hadn't returned.

Zoe mocked a gasp, huffing out, "These, my friend, are Prada,"

"Whatever Iz," I said, kicking her feet off of the poor boys feet so they landed with a thud on the ground.

"Iz?" she questioned, confusion evident in her voice.

I froze, just as the lights dimmed for the previews. Had I said Iz? I couldn't think of a reason for me doing so. I had no friends called Iz. Yet, it had slipped out.

"Never mind," I derailed, blushing a distinct shade of magenta. Zoe gave me an odd look before settling back.

I didn't even realize when Will took his seat beside me, sitting like a stature on the plush red chairs. The movie flew by, with my mind whirling. I was distracted only by the slight pressure on my hand. I glanced over and noted in surprise that Will had taken my hand in his.

Sensing my stares, he glanced towards me, holding out a piece of licorice as a silent offering. I shook my head, studying his face for something, anything that could explain my troubles. All I got by this was a feeling of deep unsettlement that I couldn't shake.

I barely noticed when the lights came back on and everyone stood up. The credits rolled and Zoe stood on her 'Prada' heels, stretching out her calves gradually.

"That was fun," she trilled and something made her voice sound strangely juvenile, "Clare-bear, you coming to hang out at our house?"

I shook my head, blaming it on not feeling well and saying I'd walk home when Will offered to drive. I couldn't do this, I felt like I'd be sick.

I pushed my way out of the theater and into the air, feeling the hum in my ears getting louder and louder until I was overtaken when it turned to voices.

_"You have no fashion sense at all Clary, these are Jimmy Choo's," _ _ "Jimmy who's?"_ There was a round of laughter at this comment. I froze though, not feeling the same enjoyment as the people in my memory had. Wait, my memory. Had this really happened? I didn't remember the voices at all. The soft feminine one that had chastised me and the shy male one with the similar tone. And Clary? I hadn't been called that for years. In fact, I hated that name and had some how burst into tears the last time my mom had used it when we moved to California.

I was probably just imagining things, maybe I was coming down with something.

* * *

Our new house was gorgeous. It was the perfect side to be big enough to house us but small enough to be cozy. I had begged my mother to put us beach side when she had said we were moving, so the lapping sounds of waves often lulled me to sleep.

I hopped up the three steps of the porch, pushing open the screen door. I didn't have to unlock the doors, whenever one of us was home we just left the door open and shut the screen one. We both enjoyed the sea air enough for it to be a common agreement.

"Clarissa, is that you?" my mother called.

"Who else mom?" I yelled back, my voice tired.

My mom popped her head out of the kitchen doorway, her scarlet locks piled on top of each other messily and new frown lines on the corners of her mouth. She had plastered a smile on her face now though, it obviously fake to my eyes.

"How was your day, honey?" she asked, motioning me into the kitchen.

"It was fine," I muttered absently, plopping down to sit on one of the chairs.

"How is Will and the group?" she inquired, busying herself with the dishes. The kitchen hadn't come with a dishwasher and my mom, wanting to preserve the character of the place hadn't installed one. I just though we didn't have the money but she'd never admit that.

"They're fine," I said, playing with the hem of my tank top.

My mom huffed, annoyed at the lack of information she was getting out of me. I sighed, letting my busy hands fall still in my lap.

"Did you paint anything new?" I asked finally, glad that she smiled at my question.

"Yes actually, would you like to see it?"

I nodded, watching as she turned to fetch her canvas out of the studio she had set up outside. I already new she had painted something new by the splatters of orange on her cheeks and hands. Or the look of calmness on her face. It was nice that she would show this one to me though, lately whenever I asked she would get weird about it and tell me that it was private. Then why was she selling it, huh?

There was a brief moment before my mom came back in that I felt everything go back to normal. I breathed out, letting a small smile play at my lips. Nothing in this room reminded me of this past life or those two voices. The square table fit perfectly into the nook in the wall and the heavily cushioned seats were as comfortable as anything. There was the faint cent of the ocean in the air as well as the fluttering of curtains as the breeze flew through the window. The cupboards were all old and squeaked when you opened them as well as smelling suspiciously like cigarettes and the floor was tiled in cheesy bright colors. I grinned at the normality just as my mother walked in, her art facing towards me.

"A sunset?" I asked warily, regarding the painting. It was beautiful, as was all my mom's work, but it wasn't anything special. Her face fell a little bit, though it wasn't that bad. It was just such an easy thing to paint and unlike her work at home, it didn't hold that part of her inside of it. There was just something missing!

"What's wrong with a sunset?" she coaxed, her voice annoyed.

"Well..." I began, shifting uncomfortably in my seat, "It's beautiful, really... it's just you always would smirk when you saw painting of sunsets cause you say it was so easy and used. You used to hate them, mom, so I just assumed you would never paint one that's so... california. Plus, what about all those landscapes at home? They were original and beautiful mom, from your old home?"

She didn't look hurt by my comments only stiff. She glanced down at her work, regarding the beach sand that was just visible at the bottom.

"Opinions change, Clary," she murmured, her voice hard.

"Don't call me that," I warned.

She sighed, setting the painting to lean against one of the cupboards. She had a wary set to her shoulders and an almost stiff sort of jolt when she walked to sit across from me at the table.

"I don't suppose you want any dinner?" She finally breathed, her eyes still troubled by my reaction.

"No," I replied, my voice strangely distant, I saw her look up at me with a pale face.

"Hon," she whispered, pulling one of my hands in both of hers. I watch as pieces of her hair fell from it's clutch, making her look oddly younger as they blocked her face. I sighed and met her eyes, noticing once again how similar they were.

"I'm tired mom," I told her defeatedly.

I watched as my mom just nodded, her face resigned. She stood up, not offering the picture in the corner of the room a second glance, and walked out. Her bare feet left small prints on the linoleum.

I could almost hear the breeze through the window as the silence weighed in. I massaged my temples warily, pulling at strands of hair with desperation. What was I missing?

I was past desperate this time, I felt almost need at the core of my stomach which bothered me even more. There was something there, just past my reach. Groaning, I set my head in my hands, angry at myself for being daft enough to not remember some thing so important.

If only I concentrated hard enough, if only I was smarter then I was. If only, if only. Why were there so many if only's? Feeling angry, I flung my arms out savagely and scattered the basket of fruit on the table across the floor.

There was a series of thumps until all was quiet again, only my hitched breathing being heard. Why was I breathing so rapidly? A single green apple had rolled towards me. Unconsciously, I gripped one of my pale hands around it, my fingers almost meeting at it's slimness.

I brought it up and took a measuring bite, feeling the juice run down my tongue and touch my lips. Then the scent took me. And once again, the humming turned into voices.

_"Happy birthday Clarissa Fray," _

My eyes snapped open though I hadn't realized they were closed. Deep shudders ran down my spine and I felt tears lick at my cheeks almost hungrily. I could only stare at the single bite in the apple as it rolled off the table, having fell out of my limp hands.

I had no idea why I was reacting like this, maybe I was going crazy but that voice... another voice threatened to pull at my memories, something dark and foreboding. Scared, I almost tripped on my seat to stand up, as if the memory was in front of me and I had to get away.

_"My daughter," _

I hadn't realized I had screamed until I found my mother running to stand before me.

"What Clary? What's wrong?" she demanded, her voice determined.

"The voices," I managed to shock out, realizing I sounded just as crazy as I felt. Yet, my mother didn't accuse me of making it up or of going insane, instead her face turned white and her eyes wide.

"You're just imagining it," she whispered, pushing me towards the open door of my room, "go to bed,"

I stared as my mother turned into the kitchen and sat down, setting her head in her hands. What was happening to me?

* * *

_I remembered some thing else to tell you wonderful readers. I have the next couple chapter written but if you have any suggestions feel free to either message me or put it in the review. :) _

_It would be really awesome if you reviewed, it makes my day every time some one does and since I've prayed to always review on a fanfic I read, it would be fair. 8) So read and review please! Even if you don't like it, I want to know what's wrong!_

Ciao, Charlotte 


	2. His Voice

_Hello everyone! I know I had it pre written but I don't want to overload everyone with a bunch of chapters... plus I forgot and have had WAY too much home work lately. Thanks for being patient. I hope this satisfies you, I'm not sure how good it is but I needed it to continue the plot. P.S The similarities are supposed to be evident to the club scene at COB. I didn't steal the idea of the club, I just used it to my advantage. :D_

_Thank you to BoulderGirl1059, Louise, GenuineAmity and GreenishBlue for reviewing and putting a smile on my face. :) I hope you like this chapter as much as you did that last one._

_DISCLAIMER : As much as I wish I were I'm not. :D I don't got anything witty to put here so... -insert some thing that makes you laugh here in place of a disclaimer- There. :D _

* * *

I was woken up by the insistent ringing of my phone, the eery tune running through the air until I was forced to reach into my pocket just to make it stop. I had fallen asleep in my clothes last night, after furiously sketching in my drawing book. It had been weird last night, like my hand was moving itself as it twirled across the page. When I had finally dipped into slumber at three A.M, my mother was still sitting at the table.

The nightmares hadn't happened today, I noted with relief, the first day since I had moves. The only good things about those terrors was that I could never remember them when I woke up.

After taking a deep breath, I pressed the talk button on my phone and brought it to my ear.

"Hello?" I asked, glad my voice sounded at least a little bit normal.

"Clare-bear!" Zoe giggled on the other line, her voice too cheery for my somber ears.

"Hey Zo," I muttered, sitting up and using my free hand to rub at my eyes.

"Feeling better?" She asked, though I could tell she didn't care about the answer.

"Much," I answered anyway, running a hand through my tangled curls.

"So, school starts tomorrow right? I was thinking we go to the mall for a total revamp of our wardrobes, then... we party at Mystique all night," she offered, her voice turning to almost insane giggles.

"That sounds fine," I told her, staring blearily into the mirror across the room. I looked like a Zombie.

"Good! I'll meet you in a halfie to go to the mall!" she said in a sing song voice, hanging up before I could respond. I groaned at her girlie dialect. She reminded me of Isabelle only in their fashion sense, Izzy was much more bad ass.

Wait, Isabelle? Who was she. Shaking my head of these weird thoughts I headed for the shower. On the way there I froze, noticing my open sketchbook on the ground. Leaning down, I brought it up, entranced by the images on the page. It was a picture of mouth, just a mouth really. Full lips stretched in a teasing smirk, on of the teeth chips in the center.

I turned and continued walking, throwing the sketch book onto the bed face down. My mother couldn't see this, something told me.

_Switching Scenes._

"Clare-bear, you look gorgeous!" Will told me, his voice sincere.

I blushed, ducking my head to look at the pavement as I walked up. The night was warm so we had ditched our jackets in Zoe's fathers jeep, though I wished I had kept it now as I walked towards the boys in my little black dress.

"See, I don't find it fair that you get the only guy that isn't my brother," Zoe said loudly, earning a snicker from Chris. I smiled, though my heart wasn't in it.

"You know you secretly love me!" Chris teased, nudging Zoe with his elbow.

"Eww, Incest much?" Zoe groaned, though I could see laughter on her only moments away on her lips.

There was the tiniest of twinges in the back of my mind that I pushed aside. I couldn't afford another melt down like last night, especially when I was already going to be in terrible trouble for clubbing on a school night.

I felt Will's arm wrap around me and his lips go to my ear, but it wasn't his voice I heard.

_"You really are breath taking tonight," _

I gasped, pushing him away and trying not to register the shock on his face. I realized that all my friends had stopped what they were doing to look at me. I blushed, apologizing to Will and making up some lame excuse for it. He shrugged, and I felt annoyed at the way he didn't even notice how much I was out of it.

"You can go in now," the bouncer said roughly, motioning with a beefy hand towards the doors. Zoe wasted no time to bounce in, Chris following closely behind with hopes of getting his sister out of some guys lap before we were to go in. Will wrapped an arm around my shoulders, dragging me inside.

I felt this club like any club, in my blood. The beat of the techno music blasted into my veins, making my whole body bounce at the volume. The smoke filled my lungs pleasantly, giving me no fresh air though I was close to the doors. The lights were bright and blindingly random as they soared over drunks, hookers, bartenders and goths.

I felt the urge to cling to Will, though I didn't because once again, it felt wrong to do. As though my subconscious mind thought it was some one else with me. The voice with me. I felt a shudder run through my spine at the thought.

"You wanna dance?" Will yelled in my ear, making me flinch.

"No," I replied honestly, "How about a drink?"

"Follow me!" He yelled, turning before I could catch my breath and weaving through the crowd. It was hard on my short body to elbow through the masses. I felt suddenly angry with Will for leaving me in the middle of the entrance so he could get to the bar faster. Gritting my teeth, I tried to follow his path but as soon as he was out of it the bodies closed up again, not expecting another person to worm through.

I jabbed at as many people as I could as I passed through, annoyed that they barely seemed to notice me. By the time I cleared the initial groups, I had lost Will completely and he was definitely not looking for me.

Muttering under my breath, I managed to make my way to the closest bar, slamming the purse Zoe had forced me to bring on the counter.

"Can I get you something?" The bartender asked, smirking almost knowingly at my slim form, "Juice, maybe?"

I held back a sharp retort at his assumptions of my age, crossing my arms over my chest.

"No thank you," I hissed, giving him a good glare. He shrugged his heavy shoulders, his mouth open in a knowing smile. I glowered, clutching my bag to my chest.

It was a moment before I felt a glass being slid down towards me, it came to rest only a little towards my right. I looked up at the bartender, my mouth open in question.

"You looked like you needed it," he shrugged, though I saw the blush creeping up his color.

"Thank you," I murmured, pulling the cup towards me.

He turned around to help another customer, though there was still traces of a gracious smile on his lips.

I fingered the glass in front of me, debating whether to drink it. It was a short glass, just a little bigger then a shot would be. I had no idea what alcohol was in here, though I knew that it wasn't bad if it was the bartender. Some thing about him told me he wasn't bad. Maybe it was the snicker that seemed glued to his face, or the kind eyes that were also permanent.

Then I felt it again, as the D.J switched the song to some thing eerily familiar. I gripped the glass tighter and drained it in one swallow, coughing and retching as it burned down my throat.

"That wasn't smart," a female voice said, slipping in beside me. I glanced over to see blonde hair marked with streaks of purple. She had eerily pale skin, the white turning different colors with the strobe lights.

"I realized," I choked, touching a hand to my still stinging throat.

"Bartender! Martini with an olive please?" she asked, smiling graciously as my new friend prepared her drink for her.

"I'm Madison, you?" she asked, nodding towards me.

"Clary," I told her, though I wasn't sure why. I hated being called Clary. Maybe it was just automatic, after all I had spent sixteen years of my life being called that.

"Weird name," she said bluntly, taking sips of her own drink. I shrugged, pressing my lips together.

"Well, nice to meet you I guess," She shrugged, though I could almost hear something edging on her voice. As she walked off with her drink in hand, I noticed a peculiar scar around her neck, though I couldn't place it.

I watched as she walked away, feeling something odd about that scar. I tried to place it, racking my brain for why I was so unnerved about it, yet nothing seemed to come up. I was interrupted by an familiar annoyed voice.

"Jesus Clare, why'd you ditch me?" Will whined, grabbing my arm to get my attention.

I shook him off, replying in an irritated voice, "You walked off so fast I lost you so I sat to wait until you came back,"

His expression softened, "Sorry, I guess I don't like the way some people are looking at you,"

I shrugged, wishing I had another one of those burning drinks to chug. I was surprised by Will's lips smacking into mine, non too softly. I pushed him off this time, gasping for breath at the sudden attack.

"What are you doing?" I whisper-accused, holding him back with my arms.

"Why'd you push me away?" he demanded, pushing against my hands until my lips met his again. Forcing my own open, I felt his slimy tongue enter my mouth.

My arms slim arms failing to make any sort of success on his chest, I tired to just let it happen. Let him finish, yet, he wouldn't. Still tonguing me, I felt shivers run down my spine and it wasn't the pleasant ones. It was then, as his arm snaked to hold up my lower back that I felt the repulsion and wrongness all over again. I whispered stop when he came up for air, but he just started again, more hard then before.

Fury bit at me, these were the wrong lips, I felt my hand going back to find something and coming back up with nothing, my glass having been cleared by the disgusted bartender. I heard coughs from the other people at the bar, grossed out by his groping hands.

Finally, I did the only thing that I could think of, I bit down on his lower lip. **Hard. **

"Ow! What the hell Clare?" he yelled putting his hand to his lips. I found myself breathing heavily, and staring at his dark hair. Wrong color.

"I told you to stop," I said, my voice cold.

"I thought you loved me!" He accused, his voice dry. I stared at his hard eyes. I didn't feel sympathy, in fact the only thought that met my head made no sense to me. It was... Wrong color.

"I'm leaving," I muttered, grabbing my bag from behind me. I heard the titters from the bar crowd as I turned to wrestle through the crowds. I knew Will wouldn't come after me, in fact I was sure that we were probably done for good. Yet, some part of me was happy... even smug at this fact.

For some reason it was easier to part this crowd then when I had been following Will, maybe because I was still bursting with drunken adrenaline. I knew I was sober though, something told me that most of that glass had been juice or even water. Yet it had still burned.

I took one last sweep over the club, my eyes just adjusting to the smoke and dim finally. Yet, I didn't see either of my remaining friends. I did not feel remorse, only hoped they wouldn't worry about me when they found I was not there. Hopefully Will would tell them without elaborating on any details. Well, knowing him he would probably either tell them it was all her fault or not tell them anything at all.

The heels Zoe had put me in were putting blisters on my feet, they were only a few inches high but I was sure that soon my toes would go completely numb. Limping unevenly through the tough door, I almost bumped into the surly usher. He gave me a look before practically shoving me stumbling onto the side walk.

By now my hair had come out of the courageous up-do Zoe had performed and was curling in thick tendrils on my cheeks and neck. I had let it grow out since moving here and it tickled my lower back. Another shot of a similar feeling except that time my heart had been thumping unevenly because of... something. I couldn't place it.

I slowly lifted up the curls off of my skin, feeling the soft breeze cool down my adrenalin until I just felt tired again. It seemed I was feeling that a lot lately.

There was a loud honk coming from to my left, glancing up I saw a huge yellow taxi. I let a small smile play on my lips at how much it reminded me of New York. Even the font on the number sign was peeling like New York. A dark face stuck out the window.

"You need a ride miss?" the driver called, articulating every word carefully. I realized he probably thought I was drunk. He had a pleasant face and kind eyes that were burrowed under dark eyebrows and a large nose.

"Yes," I managed, grateful for his kindness. Slipping open the door, I thudded inside loudly. The plastic seats stuck to my bare legs unpleasantly and I hid my annoyance with a grin. Just like New York.

"Where're you heading?" he asked, his voice just as careful as before.

I listed off the address of my new house, only hesitating slightly to remember the new one. I had automatically started with my old house, I sighed, missing it. I could remember the grande staircase and the color of my walls... and the smell of ichor? Shaking my head I realized I was more tired then I thought I was.

"Tough night?" he asked when the silence got unbearable.

"Yeah, my boyfriend got too rough," I offered, ignoring the now familiar twinge.

"It's good you got out of there in time," he said firmly, turning onto a semi-familiar road.

"Yeah," I breathed, resting my fore head on the cool plastic of the divider. I remembered his fierce eyes boring into me and the feel of his lips on mine. I resisted the urge to spit out the bad taste that had collected on my tongue.

"We're here miss," he said, rousing me from my restless thoughts.

I dug in my wallet until I found a twenty which I set gently on the drivers shoulder. It was a habit I had grown accustomed to when the dividers had started to be used. He thanked me and wished me a good night. I couldn't help but like him when he waited for me to push open the door before his engine revved as he pulled away.

When I walked into the house I was assaulted by my mothers desperate voice. At first I thought she was talking to me, but I soon realized she was on the old fashioned phone in the kitchen. Creeping forward, I was not embarrassed to eavesdrop.

"Magnus, I need you hear as soon as possible," she begged, her voice nervous. Something told me I wasn't meant to hear this, though I felt an odd thrill at the fact.

Who was Magnus? Nothing came up at the name, not even a twinge. I shifted from foot to foot, feeling a draft send goosebumps down my bare legs.

"I don't care how bad he is, this is for the good of my daughter, it doesn't matter to me how many times you've had to save him from his own self," my mother huffed coldly, though there was still a twinge of desperation in it.

"Magnus Bane, I've been with you for seventeen years and him for what two?"

_Bane. _Images flashed through my brain. No, colors. Bright colors and blue sparks. I blinked and they were gone. I treasured the name, vowing to remember it. It was the most I had gotten.

"So this is because of Alexander, Ja-" she began, interrupted by me.

I had not wanted to hear any more. Stepping into the kitchen I called her name casually, realizing my grungy expression.

"Oh, Clary!" she said, surprise coloring her tone.

I heard an urgent voice speak on the other end, just barely out of reach of my comprehension. I did not recognize the voice. It held some sort of desperation of it's own though, one I hadn't heard before I had spoken.

"Hey mom, am I interrupting some thing? An annoying telemarketer?" I smirked, knowing some how I had to fake my knowledge of her phone call.

I saw the relief on her face and tried not to make it register on my own. Her eyes darted back and forth between my face at the door in which I had come through.

"You know it," she faked a chuckle, "Schools tomorrow, go get some sleep, kay?"

I nodded my head warily, ducking out of the room, aware her speech would be guarded now that I was home. There was no point listening in any more.

Sighing, I stripped off my dress from the sticky skin that clung to it. I shivered at the swift air that brushed past me, crawling under the covers. The window blew in cool breezes that put goosebumps up and down my legs. I fell asleep to the swirling of patterns on my curtains, though they blew into unfamiliar shapes as my mind closed.

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_Thanks for reading this far! Seriously, reviews are better then remembering Jace's voice. XD Sorry if you didn't like it. :) Love, Charlotte._


	3. His Face

_Sorry it's been so long! I've been super busy with my dance and our huge English project coming up! At least - unlike my other stories - I'm actually getting this chapter up! I promise I haven't forgotten about you guys! 8) I hope you enjoy this chapter, I'm sorry if it's really bad. :( _

_DISCLAIMER : Hello sexy picture of me in the mirror, how ya doing?  
Oh, so I haven't magically turned into Cassandra Clare?  
You sure?  
Damn. :(  
So... NOPE! Don't own anything! _

P.S Thanks to all the reviewers, you guys are all amazing and MAKE MY DAY!

* * *

"Clare-bear? Clare, Earth to Clarissa?"

"Huh?" I breathed, focusing in on Zoe as she waved her newly painted nails around my face. Purple, the one I'd gotten her for christmas last year, with lime green stripes down them.

"Jesus, Clare-bear, tuning out much?" she mocked, grabbing my arm with her talons and pulling me down the halls. It was ten minutes before the bell would officially ring with would signify the start of senior year.

"Sorry," I sighed, adjusting my messenger bag on my shoulder, "I just can't believe summer is over,"

"Yeah," she laughed, throwing back her blonde curls, "Here comes the actual work,"

"Actual work?" Chris asked, waltzing up absently. His matching pale hair was shaggy, hidden by a large pair of black head phones. He thought the ear buds were weird and that they constricted his ears, "You never do actual work anyway, Zo,"

I laughingly agreed, watching as the twins continued bickering.

"So, what happened last night Clare-bear?" Chris asked, his voice softening.

Zoe turned towards me too, a million questions lighting up her brown eyes at this. I almost hit Chris for bringing it up because I knew she would never leave me alone now. I raked my eyes over her not modest outfit, gazing at the baby pink dress and black belt along with the same 'prada' heels she had bragged about.

Chris was dressed much plainer then his sister in a simple ACDC T-shirt and jeans as well as Nike runners. He pulled down his headphones, motioning for me with a California tanned hand to spill the story.

"I wasn't feeling well and..." I began, only to be cut off my Chris's raised hand.

"Please, Clare-bear, we might have known Will longer then we've known you but that doesn't mean we don't know that this was most definitely his fault," he said, winking me and earning a smack from his sister as well as an admonishment.

"He just got a little too forceful I guess and I panicked, it was nothing, really," I told him, putting a gentle hand on his arm to calm his anger.

"Relax though Chris, it was not what you're thinking," I told him giving him a small shove.

Chris sighed before bidding us farewell to get to his class and pulling his music back up, his lips moving forebodingly to the lyrics of the song as he walked. I smiled as he sauntered off, realizing the differences between his sister and him.

"Clare-bear, have you even been listening to me?" Zoe scowled, picking at her cuticles.

"Distracted, what were you saying?" I asked, looking at my flip flops in vain and aware that my hair now shielded my cheeks.

"I was _saying_ that your outfit it actually okay today, I mean, at least it's not some geeky band shirt," she said, causing me to look down at my light jean shorts and purple tee with ink smudges all over it, "It's totally artist chic,"

I grinned, shaking my head at her oblivion as we dawdled towards first period home room. I hadn't told anyone about my art, feeling it as my connection to my old home. I had no idea why exactly, it was just this feeling that the little things I doodled were actually worth something to some people that weren't here.

Zoe and I sank into seats in the back of home room just as the first bell rang. She turned and started chatting with the guy she sat beside, turning into her flirting mode. Smirking, I leaned back to pull out my notebook. Today would just be a review of the rules and introductions, as it was every year.

I ended up being right as the teacher came in and proceeded to read off the long list of school rules. I rolled my useless ball point pen around my fingers, wishing I had just left it in my bag. It would be too loud to put it back now, so I just twirled it around and around my desk, trying not to let it skid the paper.

Getting bored of that, I started doodling on the paper with it. Not aware of what I was drawing. It felt... good. Something drawing hasn't felt to me in a long time. I continued to doodle until I felt that it was suddenly silent.

"Alright, time to introduce ourselves," Miss Stevens called, a fake smile on her face, "Starting at the back, Jake?"

Everyone followed her gaze to the boy that Zoe had been talking to, he had dark brown hair that clung to his face and nervous hazel eyes.

"I'm Jake. I play on the soccer team and uh... I like to go surfing when there are some nice waves... and uh, I'm single if any ladies are looking,"

This statement was followed by a couple snickers and groans and more then a few flirty giggles... especially from Zoe. I rolled my eyes, turning my body towards Zoe instead.

Realizing it was her turn, my friend flounced back to face the whole class while fixing her hair girlishly. Finally, after proclaiming her curls perfect, she started.

"Hello everyone, my names Zoe... but you knew that." This was followed by a round of chuckles and some downright laughs.

"My three favorite things are boys," a giggle on her part and some flexing on the guys in the class.

"Shopping," A few rolls of the eyes. "And of course... hanging with my friends," She gestured towards me, though the boys were in a different home room.

"Very good, Zoe," Miss Stevens smiled, though, you could tell it was some what forced.

I blushed as everyone's eyes turned some what reluctantly to me and away from the smiling blonde. I twisted the cap of my pen back on and sat up a little straighter, clearing my throat.

"Hi, I'm Clary Fray. I moved here last year from New York City," A few interested titters from people that hadn't known. "I like to listen to music and like Zoe, talk with friends... and draw,"

I hadn't even meant to say it but immediately Zoe was looking at me funny and the whole class was doing that thing they do to people who say they like to draw. When they all ask to see what your drawing and look actually interested... while smirking.

"Oh, do you have any of your work with you?" Miss Stevenson asked in that typical teacher way. I groaned inside, though I just blushed outside and shook my head.

"Hey, she's drawing something now!" An annoying jock called from the front.

Suddenly, Zoe leaned over and snatched my notebook out from my hands. Worry tilted my mind because I had no idea what I had drawn. I was about ready to physically wrestle Zoe to the ground to get it back. I would have wrestled anyone to the ground to get it back, it was disgusting for her to just steal it from me.

"Hey," she said, her voice irritatingly surprised, "It's actually good!"

She turned it around to face the class and I too peered for a good view, before gasping along with some others. It was a perfect rendition of a simple angel's wing, it's feathers curved and almost delicate.

"That's very good, Miss Fray, now how about Megan?"

I could feel the teacher visibly motioning the class towards the girl beside me, one with mousy black hair and some pretty red glasses. She smiled and announced herself, unaware that people were still staring at me and my drawing.

Leaning over, I snatched up my note book and gave Zoe a full fledged glare. She pretended to be innocent but I could see her shrink in her seat. My cheeks flushed in anger, I snapped it to a new page and clicked open my pen again, though I was not going to take notes.

I looked at the wing again, running my hand over it. I could almost feel them, the softness. That was impossible though, I pulled my hand away and turned it back to my blank page. Poising my pen on top. Drawing it had felt good, no matter how angry I was.

Yet, no other drawing came to mine, only these swirls. I felt my pen begin to move with it. Until the bell rang and I glanced down at my sheet. It was full of random swirls and designs. I felt words to go with it, titles.

_Don't be silly Clary, no one cares what the names are to stupid little designs._

I snapped my notebook closed and sat up. My next class was science which... Will was in. I wasn't quite ready to face him so I decided to detour to drop of some books in my locker before heading there. I wasn't sure why because I had my science book, but I couldn't deal with him.

Luckily, Zoe wasn't in that class. Speaking of Zoe, the bubbly blonde was calling my name desperately as I raced out of the class, not caring if I'd get a detention for running in the halls.

I was nearly running full out when I bumped into some one, calling out as my note book and pen clatter onto the ground along with... well, me.

"Whoa there," a male voice said, reaching out a hand to me. I glanced around my splayed state, realizing the snickers of the people who veered around me. Great start to the senior year.

I looked up to meet a pair of charcoal eyes that sent chills down my body. Just the color sneaked layers of terror down me. Though these held a certain kindness that I had to tell myself to just calm down.

"Sorry," I mumbled, grabbing my things and using his hand to swing me up.

Looking him over, I saw raven hair and a baby face along with the eyes. Again, another shiver ran through my spine at the resemblance to... something.

"Are you alright?" He asked, handing me a book I hadn't realized had fallen out of my bag.

"Yeah, I'm fine, you just... remind me of someone," I shrugged, passing the thought for nothing as I tucked the book back into my bag. It was a copy of Wuthering Heights for english, dog eared from years of reading it. Blushing, I zipped my bag back up.

"Really? Someone handsome I hope," he chuckled, dealing with my creepy mood greatly.

I shrugged, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. He excused himself to get to class, smiling almost sympathetically at my awkwardness. I felt that my blush was now permanent as a few snotty girls from school muttered 'loser' under their breaths. I fought between embarrassment and annoyance.

Sighing, I continued down the hall, happy to have my curtain of fiery curls to block me from their cruel stares. I was careful not to run into anyone more, aware how clumsy I was. Even in New York I could never stay standing.

When Will walked in I could feel it, feel his gaze meet my head, drooped over the note book and doodling more of those little designs. Next thing I knew there was a shift to the stool beside me, which scraped annoyingly against the linoleum. It was silent for one golden moment before he had to go and ruin it.

"Clare-bear," he sighed.

I lifted my hair up to glare, aware of how silly I looked with my curtain of locks held up by my fore arm and my brows furrowed in annoyance. He snickered and I had to glare when he didn't act like I thought he was supposed to.

When he saw that I was on the brink of lifting my huge chemistry text book and giving him a good smack with it, the smile he hopped was winning slowly melted away and on came his 'pensive' look.

"Listen Clare, I'm sorry about last night," he offered.

I looked into his eyes, searching for some thing I didn't know. The one thing that irked me was that I saw no sincerity in it, nothing like the guy I thought was my boyfriend.

I turned away to sit over my notebook again, watching as he groaned in frustration. He flipped open his own book with a thud, I thought, until he turned and gathered up his things.

"Fine, I'll go sit some where else," he said, earning some curious glances from the students gathered there already.

"Okay," I responded, not meeting his eyes though mine burned with anger.

The bell rang loudly, making everyone take their seats. Except for the one beside me. I sucked in loudly, knowing the new label I had. Just like my old school. Loser.

The teacher began his lesson, starting once again with a review of the rules. I was just about to start glaring at Will once again when the door banged open. I raised my gaze to where Chris stood, his eyes appraising the situation of Will's smugness and my obvious anger.

Suddenly, in the way that Chris did, he grinned.

"Deeply sorry, sir, I was just-" he began, before turning and pretending to see me.

"No way! Oh my god," he said, his eyes going wide, "Do you mean? Are you serious?"

He pointed a hectic hand to my confused face and looked awestruck at the nervously chuckling room.

"THANK THE LORD!" he yelled suddenly, racing towards me and kneeling on one knee.

"Miss Clarissa Fray, it is truly an honor to sit beside you. You. Are. MY IDOL!" He screamed, acting like on of those obsessed fan girls. I chuckles nervously as he grabbed my hand and pretended to fawn over it.

He let out a girly sigh and pretended to faint falling down rim rod straight on the ground. I laughed along with the rest of the class. Chris was known for his dramatics. He'd challenged the calculus teacher to a duel laster year a week after I'd transferred. It had been a big joke because he and Chris had not gotten along and he was a major, and I mean major Harry Potter fan. Chris had even ripped out a pencil and spoke gibberish for a good two minutes and pretending it was a spell. He was practically famous.

The class burst out laughing again as Chris scrambled up to take his seat and I silently thanked Chris with my eyes. He was giving me a gentle look, having dropped his charade as the teacher tried to rally up the class again.

"No Chris, you are my idol," I whispered into his ear, earning a modest grin on his part and a shrug.

"Tell you what," he said, "you draw me a picture where I look hot, and we'll call it even. Yeah, it's all around school now sweetheart,"

I blushed, pushing him playfully. He shrugged his broad shoulders again and turned to pay attention to the class. Chris and I were good friends, in fact, I liked him better then Will and Zoe both most of the time.

I was honestly surprised when I felt something nudge my elbow, I looked down to see a page beside me.

**That was surprisingly fun to do, Clare-bear! Now, tell Dr. Chris about what ****Will**** did now. D:**

Thanks a million, by the way!!!!!! He apologized but... I don't know. Instinct told me it wasn't sincere. Is that nuts?!?

**Can't tell you, Clare-bear, I wasn't there. I'll take your word for it though. :) P.S Wanna start drawing that smoky picture of me? P.P.S Make it hot for the ladies, Clare-bear!**

Thanks Chris. :) Erm... I'm not that good of artist, Chris. But I'll try I guess. :/

**Perfect! Remember, SMOKING!!!!!!**

Boys. : P

I sighed, giving Chris a meaningful look before turning over the paper and blowing comically on my pen. He pretended to laugh before rolling his eyes and motioning for me to shut up and draw. I shook my head and put pen to paper, glancing at him. The pen began to move.

"Please show me! Please please please please!" Chris begged, nudging me with his tray as we walked out of the Cafeteria line, he had walked me to lunch as he begged to see it.

I nervously giggled, shaking my head and fingering the folded up paper. It had transformed into him yet, there was something in the eyes when he had said 'smoking' that made me draw... I wasn't even sure.

I slipped with him into our table, groaning when Zoe hurried to follow us.

"I'm so so so so so so so so so-o sorry, Clare," she said, pushing out her bottom lip in a pout.

"It's alright Zoe, just don't do it again," I warned, too exhausted from the already tiring day to hold grudges. She didn't bother saying thank you, only nodded her head and gave me her happy look.   The second I reached out to grab my soda, I felt the paper being slipped out from where I had tucked it under my tray and a triumphant sound slipping from his throat.

He stood up when I dived for it, easily towering over my small frame as he opened up the note book paper.

"Whoa, Clare-bear, they weren't kidding!" he gasped sitting down to show Zoe who brought it closer to her.

"You are so guilty of liking him more Clare, look at how good you drew him. Though, those eyes are just creepy" she said, motioning towards drawing. They were a sinuous black, smoky tendrils curling up from the sides and the ruins of some thing inside that I couldn't place. She was right, they didn't look like him. They look familiar though...

"Are you insinuating some thing?" he asked, raising both eye brows.

Siblings. Then there was that twinge, interrupted only by-

"Not you two at it again," Will rolled his eyes, slipping in beside Zoe and across from me.

I automatically, leaned over, pulling out a pen from my bag as Will continued on to animatedly explain his new Chem partner and how stupid Chris was in that class. Because Zoe didn't know this, Will then did a play by play replay as I doodled on a napkin.

"Chris!" Zoe exclaimed, leaning across the table to push Chris in shock.

Chris just shrugged, taking a bite out of his chicken burger and a swig of Doctor Pepper.

"So, Clare, I heard about your little art facade, how'd you pull that off, something from the internet?" Will asked, his eyes mocking.

I found myself blushing as both Chris and Zoe moved to defend me. I found my doodles becoming more fervent as Chris pulled out the picture of him and Will had nothing to defend himself with.

"Oh, sorry Clare... for everything," he said finally and when I looked up, his eyes _were_ sorry.

"It's alright," I mumbled.

Chris shot me an incredulous look, his eyes begging me to take it back. I couldn't though, I didn't have the energy to.

"Oh, thanks Clare-bear, I'll make it up to you!" he grinned, leaning over to place a kiss on my mouth. I cringed internally, tensing up as he pulled away.

"Kay," I mumbled.

Zoe and Will then began an intense conversation over the upcoming home coming for seniors. I tuned out, focusing on the disappointment on Chris's face. When he met my gaze, he forced a smile that spoke more words then he ever could. Betrayal, one of the more prominent ones.

Not being able to deal with Will anymore, I worked back into the conversation, trying to ignore the pressure of my left hand which Will had placed his own over.

They talked about their plans, their outfits and most of all... their dates. Zoe wanted to ask that Jake kid to go, but she wasn't sure if he liked her more then his surf board. Like a typical friend, Will was telling her how he was insane if he didn't go with her. I couldn't help but sigh. I missed my old life, Simon. Why hadn't he called like he promised? He didn't even come to say goodbye.

Filled with hurt and no longer wanting to draw, I glanced down at my paper. I was surprised to see a chest drawn on. A ripped T-shirt, blood every where and I could tell it was still. Why? Who was it? I sighed, wadding up the napkin and setting it on my tray to throw out.

"Hate how we decided to take art together, Clare-bear," Zoe said, tuning myself back into the conversation.

"Why?" I asked, only mildly curious.

"Cause it would show how much I suck," Zoe whined, her voice rising to an annoying pitch.

I caught myself before I could snap at her. Once again, she felt too girly, too weak to be my friend. Not like Isabelle.

Ugh, who was this Isabelle. Frustrated, I grabbed my tray and walked away without a goodbye, throwing my things over.

English flew by breezily, the review of the rules and everything plus a reading of the first chapter. Luckily, I knew all of the book so I just sat there, staring out the window. It was my only class without my friends. Eventually, I grabbed my note book to record the home work of the night. Stupid teacher.

Immediately upon seeing one of the squiggles I'd drawn, a word came to mind.

_Remember._

Remember. What did that mean? Didn't I decide not to name these stupid things. I trailed a finger along it, barely realizing it was time to go from English. Gripping the old love story in my hands, I stood up and cringed. It was time for art.

Walking into art was like walking into a very awkward party. In the corner were my friends, their easels set up in a semi circle, an extra set aside for me. They all waved and called me over, proceeding to laugh at the jinx.

I followed their giggles, ignoring the looks that the citizens of the class gave me as I went, focusing on them. Saying hello calmly, I donned one of the white smocks and sat on the cheap stool that the wealthy school had provided. As I listened to Zoe and Chris bicker about some broken vase that they were on the edge of being grounded for, I wound my hair up into a pony tail, loose curls framing my face.

Finally, I was drawn into real life as Will laced a hand around my shoulder and scooted his easel closer to mine.

"Can't wait to see the artist at work, Clare-bear!" he said, faking enthusiasm to make up for my still icy composer.

"I can," Zoe sighed, "I'm going to look horrible compared to miss 'never tell anyone that she's van vinci or whatever'"

I blushed, playing with the set that everyone had beside them of charcoals, paints and even markers.

"At least know that I can't even draw a straight line Zo," Will laughed, squeezing my side before letting go as a rushed looking teacher hurried in.

The difference between him and teachers of other subjects was grande. He wore a faded band T-shirt with crusted over paint in bright colors splattered on sporadically and faded jeans that looked like they'd been in the wash one too many times. With shaggy brown hair similar to Will's yet more choppily cut and a blush to his cheeks he looked warm and inviting. I couldn't help but smile as he set down a duffel bag and turned around with a breath. He had on lopsided glasses that I thought didn't actually have any lenses.

He threw out an arm and welcomed the class, we all murmuring a welcome back, though most weren't paying attention.

"Let's start here," he said, his words solemn, "This class if one of my favorites because I get to get to know my students,"

He looked at us all in turn, earning shifts from the shyer of the group.

"I want you to let everything you learned today out of your brains, not forever though, or else your other teachers will kill me,"

There were a few chuckles from the class.

"Your first assignment is to pick up the thing that calls to you most in the box that I've supplied. Then put it to paper, close your eyes and feel your hand move. You'll be marked not on skill but by how true it is. You'll have to explain it to me when I come around,"

I felt my eyes go wide. What a weird assignment. What was going to happen if I just let myself draw?

"What are you still staring at me for? I know I'm handsome but not that bad. Now draw!" he smiled, and the smile transformed his face.

I regarded the case of utensils warily, trying to find the one that 'calls to me'. None did. Looking around our hasty small semi circle of easels, I observed my friends choices.

Chris had chosen the paints and was now standing to get some water from the sink in the side. Zoe had chosen the colored pencils and had closed her eyes as she poised the tip of the orange one on the edge of it. Will had grabbed one of the permanent markers in a dusky green and was staring at it like it was out to murder him.

I considered the normal pencil but quickly wrote it off, I wanted to do this right and it didn't thrill me. Digging through the pile I looked away before closing my hand on some thing long and musky. It was a shallow strip of charcoal. I smiled, glad that I had found my instrument.

There was a screech as Chris returned with his water and a smirk.

"I would have expected you to be done already," he said, setting the teetering glass on the table between us that held the box.

"I don't know what to draw," I admitted, glancing warily at the still blank canvas.

"I'm drawing the beach," Zoe piped in, her melodic voice twisting.

"What's the orange supposed to be?" Will snickered, cocking his head towards his color.

"Shut up," she blushed, tucking it away in the box and with drawing a neat blue instead.

"Well, do what Mister... hasn't introduced us yet. But do what the teacher said and just feel it," he offered helpfully.

"I guess," I sighed, rubbing off the grimy layer of charcoal that had been submerged onto my fingers.

Giving up on getting it out, I closed my eyes and poised the long stick on the paper taking a deep breath. I willed something to happen, anything, but nothing did. Pressing it in harder, I waited.

Maybe I was thinking too hard, I thought, letting my mind wander. It still sat there, unmoving.

Beginning to get frustrated, I held back a curse and took a deep breath to cleanse myself. I remembered New York, the musty smells of Pandemonium and the dim streets at night. I remembered the coffee that was always so much better there. And the restaurant with the coconut pancakes, where was that again.

My hand moved and when I opened my eyes I couldn't stop drawing. The thought had evoked some thing inside of me that sent my hand trailing slowly across the page, outlining some thing I couldn't make out. I didn't care though.

I was startled out of my dream like state when a voice commented on Chris` piece beside me. I looked over, still drawing to see Mister Quince (Zoe had figured it out mid period) appraising his work. I looked away, listening as I continued my drawing.

"I appreciate how you took hold of the exercise but... could you explain it to me?" he said, his voice not unkind.

"I meant it to be this swing in my back yard, but then I started drawing two figures on it, not sure who they are yet, I'm just going with my gut," Chris explained, blushing as he glanced over at me.

Uncomprehending, I focused more on my work, sketching what seemed to be a chiseled jaw with shadows that formed naturally with eh charcoal. I brought my index finger up and wiped a little on the chin, smudging it. Normally I would've been upset about ruining the painting, but this time I thought it gave it character, made it look real.

I didn't notice that Mr. Quince was behind me until he brought up a hand to touch my canvas with. I brought in a shocked breath, then let it out slowly when I realized it was him. I looked over at his own jaw out line, not recognizing my need for the smudge.

"And this is what you feel when you dig inside your mind?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"Umm... I'm not sure, I just... it feels right to draw it," I murmured, regarding the face I had drawn absently, I had only added detail to the jaw and the mouth, that same chipped tooth absently having been added.

"Who is this?" he asked curiously, almost politely. I resisted the urge to sigh, he didn't like this.

"I don't know," I admitted, shading a small curve where the head's cheekbones would be.

He raised one eye brow before telling me he'd come back later to see how far I'd gotten and turned to Will's. Letting out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding, I turned back to start to better define the sharp cheekbones I knew he had.

I was stunned by Mister Quinces voice, telling us that his classroom was always open after and before school, even on Saturday evenings where he came in here to grade. Every one just about cheered when the bell rang, having not gotten far on their creations and wanting to get home or out with friends.

I stared at my drawing, at the curves and textures, I spoke a hasty reply to them as I sat there, charcoal still in hand and they left, promising to call me later.

"Are you alright, Miss... I'm sorry, I forgot to take role," M. Quince apologized, causing me to look up. He sat at his desk, his feet resting on the top of it and a sketchbook in his hands.

I blushed, beginning to clean up my area.

"You don't have to go, you know, You seemed pretty engrossed in that picture," he said pointedly, a slow grin spreading across his face, highlighting his young skin. He had to be only in his mid twenties.

"It's Clary, umm... Clary Fray," I answered, slowly sitting back down on my stool. Luckily my friends had chosen the easel in the far corner side of the room, so it wasn't that awkward.

"Short for anything?" he asked, leaning forward to take a swig of his coffee.

"Clarissa," I whispered, picking up my charcoal again to poise it on the paper.

"Clarissa," he repeated absently, putting his own pencil back down and moving it across the page.

* * *

-Sigh- I love the art teacher. -hugs-. I hope you enjoyed this... i'm sorry if it's a little all over the place... Ha-ha. I have no time at all to re-read this. This is the last of my pre-written chapters so I'll try and get the other done... tomorrow? And then up sometime next week. I hope I remember. -crosses fingers-

I'd love if you reviewed! Thanks!

Charlotte


	4. His Eyes

**Oh GOD! I'm so sorry you guys! I was just writing Chapter five and went to see what I had named these chapters so I could think up a name for 5 then realized I hadn't posted Chapter four yet! I'm such an idiot, I literally thought I had posted this chapter. I didn't know you'd been waiting this long, I feel so badly! I promise it won't be such a long weight for chapter five but I'm really busy with school and stuff!**

**Thanks for all the amazing reviews! Seriously, you guys make me want to write better and more. I'm still trying to find an angle for this story but if anyone has any ideas for a sub plot hit me! I also need a Beta reader so that would be fantastic if some one wanted to do it. I need some one who can email me and who has Pages 09 because that's what I use! And who can suggest what can happen next in the story and tell me honestly the typo's or paragraphs where it doesn't flow correctly. Thanks!**

**DISCLAIMER ! I don't own The Mortal Instruments, The Characters or The World of the books though the characters and school's I did create (Zoe, Will, Chris and Mr. Quince) are all mine. D**

* * *

"So you're saying that you spent like an hour after school in art?" Zoe complained, her voice tinny over the phone.

I sighed, confirming what I had already told her several times. I sat on my bright green bed, my home work and text books splayed around me precariously, my silver phone balanced between my ear and my shoulder.

After returning home and checking my messages, I had changed into a pair of grey sweats and a band T-shirt and started my home work. The hour after school had turned into an hour and a half before my canvas had been turned into a full jaw, two ears, a mouth and the beginnings of a nose. It had taken me painstakingly long to draw the nose, not wanting to mess up at all.

"Ew, I don't think I can hang out with you any more," she teased, fiddling with some thing on the other end of the line.

"That's shallow," I told her, scowling despite myself.

"And?" she challenged, before turning away from the phone to yell at her younger brother Leo. I cringed, the noise carrying back way too loudly to me.

I sighed, getting back to my work. It was only a moment before I threw my pencil down in frustration and slid off the bed.

"Whoa, what's eating you?" Zoe laughed, having finished screaming at the youngster.

"I'll call you back, Zo, I need to go find my mom to request a laptop, this whole research by the book is killing me," I told her, snapping the phone shut and shoving it in the over sized pocket of my sweats.

I walked into the kitchen, watching my mother unload the dishwasher while humming a tune I didn't know. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, my gaze slid past her usual overalls and T-shirt. I cleared my throat, causing her to jump and turn to look at me.

"Hi sweetheart, how's the home work coming?" she smiled, turning back to stack a pile of cups in the cupboard.

"Horrible, I need a computer for most of this stuff," I told her, plopping into one of the stiff kitchen chairs and fiddling with the hem of the table cloth.

"Your old one is around here some where," she told me non chalantly.

"My old one?" I asked, my confusion registering in my voice.

My mother froze with one of our good china dishes in her hand, the ones we'd used on Saturday and she had neglected cleaning. She'd invited a potential buyer over so it had been a semi fancy affair.

"Oh, you bought it in New York, it's an old clunker but it works," she said, her voice slightly shaky.

"Hm, I don't remember, where is it?" I asked, my mind whirling. How could I forget buying a computer?

"Not sure, I can find it for you tomorrow while you're at school though hon," she said, placing the now dry silver ware in the specified drawer.

"Okay," I nodded, turning to walk away.

I slipped into bed later that night, falling into another one of those night mares.

Math was fine at the beginning of the day and so was Chemistry. Chris and I talked for a bit, got in mild trouble for doing so and then sat silently through the rest of the lesson. Then came lunch where Will for some reason couldn't keep his arms off me. The whole time I felt... cold. There was that same feeling of wrongness that came with every intimate gesture, word or thought. English was okay, boring considering it was the only class without my friends.

When I walked into art I saw how the easels had been rearranged. It took me a moment of un ease before I realized what was different. It was backwards. Confused, I took a few steps into the room and let out a nervous laugh.

"Like it?" Mr. Quince said, his face bright with excitement, "After you left last night I felt like everyone needed a change,"

I gazed around again. Everything had been switched, all the posters, the forgotten sweater. He'd even re written his name on the black board with the same smudge over the c.

I nodded just as a second girl hurried in adjusting her book bag over her shoulder.

"What?" she began.

"Just go with it," I laughed, feeling strangely calm in this room. Maybe Mr. Quince had been right about changing it, it was a nice mood breaker.

I headed to the same semi circle at the back of the room, a stunned smile on my face. There were some more confused laughter and giggles of astonishment as well as one guy letting out some colorful swear words. I located my seat, pulling up the stool and sliding off my jacket. It was a heady temperature in the room, probably to dry paint faster.

I took the time before my friends could come in to look at their paintings.

Chris's was a replica of the swing in their back yard, complete with swirls of red for the shriveled apples that hung on the same tree the swing did. There was a brief outline of a blue sky though that was it, he seemed to be concentrating on the back ground mostly.

Zoe's had turned out not to be a sunset after all. I had a feeling that though I hadn't heard it, Mr. Quince had chastised her for having a closed mind. He'd told me that many people in the class had chosen some thing to draw instead of felt it and how he was disappointed last night. So Zoe had turned her bright orange pencil mark to a shading of swirls that mixed with other bright colors. None dark enough to be somber.

Then there was Will's which was just a huge green rectangle. I cocked my head, trying to see some thing different but didn't end up doing so.

I jumped when I felt two almost too cold hands wrap around my waist and lips at my here.

"Like my drawing Clare-bear?" Will asked, kissing the lobe of my ear. I shivered and not in the good way. I pulled out of his grasp, feeling sad at the hurt on his face.

"It's just too hot," I apologized, lying badly through my teeth. He didn't pay enough attention to notice my lie, and just grinned.

"She's lying, she pulled away cause she couldn't bear to look at that mess you call a drawing," Chris said sarcastically, "What's with the change?"

"Mr. Quince said he thought we needed it," I offered, watching as Chris put on his painters smock and then doing the same.

"It's creepy," Zoe offered, sliding into her seat to the right of me. She leaned over to look at my easel, her eyes widening.

"Whoa, Clare, who's that and where can I get some?" she said, her eyes begging.

I laughed, ignoring Will's fierce expression and focusing on Zoe's awed expression as she stared at the picture.

"I'm not done yet Zo, and it's no one, I just made it up," I told her, pushing her back onto her own easel and gripping a slab of charcoal in my hand. I dabbed lazily at the thin line of the chin, adding what I thought would be the neck.

"Damn," she muttered, picking up a green pencil crayon and rolling it mistily across the page, still pondering the boy I drew on my easel.

I continued to draw, occasionally commenting on the conversation around me. Mr. Quince was walking around the room, wearing ripped jeans and a white T-Shirt while he commented.

I was just drawing the hair of my drawing when he came to the back of the room and our circle. A small smile on his face he looked at Chris' as he seemed to always do. Maybe he did us in alphabetical order or some thing, I thought, though I knew he wouldn't bother.

"I like it, it shows you well," he said, motioning to some part of the drawing I couldn't see, "Just try and put more emphasis on the parts you want to, whether it be the person or the tree, alright?"

Chris nodded, already dipping his paint brush in the dull orangey red of the crab apples he drew on his tree. The teacher took once last glance at his picture before moving on to mine.

"Odd," he muttered after an awkward moment of silence, more to himself then me. I stopped adjusting the peaks of rustling hair, gripping the charcoal so harshly I felt the odd blackish color would be forever engraved in my skin.

"Pardon?" I asked, trying to stay polite.

"Oh," he jumped, as if just noticing I was there, "I was just noticing that you drew this from the bottom up. Which is fine really except... you've skipped the eyes,"

I looked at my own drawing again, noticing the careful lines, the practiced strokes that talked of many times that I had drawn this person when this was really the first time. Mr. Quinces eyes had gone dark and brooding, his jaw set as he observed.

"Most people focus on the eyes but you drew down... up... which usually signifies," he glances at me and then at the stunned people of my group that were watching him too.

He let a grin split his fake, though his eyes stayed troubled.

"Sorry everyone, I think I've been watching too much C.S.I," he exclaimed, making Chris laugh heartily.

He moved on to talking about how good Will's painting was hurriedly, leaving me sitting there stunned as I stared at my own drawing. I didn't feel the draw to add to it as I had before, and I realized that I had been standing up to add to it, entranced. I sat back down on my chair with a plop and stared at the two empty spaces where the eyes should have been.

"You alright, Clare-bear?" Will asked when Mr. Quince had moved on to another girls painting and talked about how 'all wrong' it was.

I nodded my head, staring at the drawing.

"If you need help with the eyes Clare," Will offered gently, his voice kind.

Before I knew it he had stood up and was moving around Zoe to come stand beside me and picking up the green charcoal that happened to be the same color as his eyes. I knew he hadn't noticed that as he moved towards it, the color getting dangerously close to the pallet.

The next thing I knew there was a loud clash and a cry of shock as I was standing and Will was on the ground, his eyes wide and a cut on his arm where it had fallen on one of those hard plates that held the paints.

I was breathing heavily, my eyes furious though I wasn't sure why. All I could think about was the color he was adding to it. It wasn't the right color, I couldn't help but insist. Not at all.

"Hey!" Mr. Quince yelled, hurrying to the scene, his eyes appraising it warily, "What happened?"

I sat back down dejectedly, my ears still ringing with anger and my brain conflicted in whether to be scared of myself of angry at Will.

"I... she pushed me!" Will said, his voice rising to a shocked yell as I looked at my drawing.

"You were going to change my drawing, he was going to draw green eyes," I stuttered, my voice changing from talking to Will then to Mr. Quince.

I expected Mr. Quince to be angry at me, to send me to the principles for violence. I wouldn't meet his gaze, could only stare at the drawing. His horrid color hadn't touched it, hadn't reached it. I was surprised of what Mr. Quince said next.

"Mr. Snoe," he said, addressing Will coldly, "No one will ever touch some one else's drawing in my class, nor will they suggest what to do with it or deface it. Their material is sacred. Take this as a warning, Will."

The bell rang yet no one moved, watching as Will stood up and Mr. Quince walked back to his desk and barked at everyone that they were dismissed. I scanned the faces of my friends and saw shock and... horror.

"What's wrong with you?" Will spat, touching a hand to the wet blood that trickled slowly down his arm.

I looked away, down at the pegs of my easel. My lips trembled as I willed myself to say some thing to explain everything, but I couldn't. I found myself taking a deep breath before turning back to my bag. I was in no mood to continue drawing. The drawing felt awkward now.

A pang of fear crossed my heart, would I loose the only friends I had. Will had already shouldered his bag and after giving me a dirty look walked out the door and Zoe was soon following suit, muttering a goodbye to me while darting her eyes. Chris was the only one who stayed with me to clean up his paints.

Shakily, I leaned down to close my charcoal box and bring it back up to the stool it had fallen off of in the ordeal. One of the long rods was cracked and another split in two. Only one remained. I swallowed, suddenly exhausted.

"You okay, Clare-bear?" Chris asked softly, touching my arm with finger tips.

I could not meet his eyes as I nodded, grabbing my plain orange nap sack from the ground and pulling it up and around my shoulders. It felt nice on my back, some thing familiar.

"Okay, I'll see you soon," he murmured softly, trailing his finger in comfort along my arm as he walked away.

I followed soon after him, though I lingered by the other students art works. I didn't want to leave just yet and risk the chance of running into Will as he came back to get books from his nearby locker. Mr. Quince was sitting at his desk again, though his shoulders were tensed and his sketchbook lay abandoned on the side.

I averted my eyes from the single tearful eye he had drawn on it, the color a bright blue. There was some thing shadowed in the eye, a reflection though I couldn't see it. He glanced up just as I gave up on him talking to watch as I walked away.

He didn't say goodbye, his dark eyes clouded with thought.

The walk home was long. I hadn't caught the city bus that I usually took to get back to my house. I twirled a strand of my hair around my fingers, letting the curl get pulled then bounce back like a spring. It calmed a little, the feeling familiar though not in my hands. Maybe my mother used to do when I was a child, she had always valued my curls. There was some one else that had too but I couldn't remember. A relative most likely...

By the time I kicked open the door, my eye lids were drooping and I was dreading the home work that had been given. I dropped my bag in the hallway and was about to go into my room for a nice long nap when my mother stuck her head out of the doorway to the kitchen, her face bright.

"I found your computer, darling! It's a little worse for the wear but I'm sure it'll stick work," she said cheerfully, handing me a dusty grey box that only faintly resembled a lap top.

"Thanks," I muttered, turning and shouldering open the door to my bedroom before falling on my bed.

I stared at the computer. My hands itched for the latch and I was about to open it up and boot it to begin my english essay when the ringing of my phone interrupted me.

I pulled it out of my hoodie pocket, checking the caller I.D. It was Zoe. Sighing, I pushed my laptop out of the way and fell onto the bed, kicking off my shoes and silencing my ringer. I was going to take a well deserved break from home work today.

"Clary... I mean Clare, Clary!"

My mother's voice broke through my slumber, pushing me to the shores of wakefulness. I sat upright in bed, my sweat mixing with the stray tears that had spilled over my eyes.

_The blood, the water. _I found myself breathing heavily, more tears falling down as my mother hastily tried to comfort me. I was still dressed in my school clothes, though I could tell by the just peaking sun that it was too early in the morning for me to be even close to waking.

_"_Clary," my mother began, not bothering to remember to use my new nick name, "are you alright?"

It took me a moment to nod, my eyes reaching her own worried ones. There was an undertone of some thing else though, something I saw every time she woke me up from one of these frequent night mares. I saw it every time she ran into the room when she heard my desperate screams and spent long moments trying to wake me up.

Yet some thing was different, I couldn't open my eyes this time and that was why she was so concerned. It had taken longer because the person in the dream hadn't wanted me to leave. I clutched at my covers, taking deep breaths.

"Just a nightmare," I muttered, shakily tucking a stray strand of my hair behind my ear.

"Okay," she breathed, her eyes relaxing. I always wondered what she was so relieved about upon hearing those words.

"You get back to sleep," she told me... though I knew sleep was too far off.

The last thing I'd heard before I'd finally opened my eyes? That soft velvety voice whispering to me.

_Open your eyes, Clary._

I clutched my hood farther down in front of me, using it to shield me from the curious gazes of business men and working mothers who sat around me. I had hopped on at the last minute, my hair soaked from the rain outside and my back pack tucked neatly beneath my shoulders so I had been forced to settle for the precarious pole that stood between seats.

I rattled around as the bus hit a bump, resting my body on the silver column. I had barely managed to get dressed into new clothes and grab my backpack before I had been out the door, needing to get some where either then my room.

I had scribbled a note to my mother telling her I'd gone to get some breakfast before coming, though food was farthest from my mind. It was a dreary 5:26 AM and I looked quite a sight with my bloodshot eyes and messy curls.

I bit my lip as the bus stopped, letting off the guy beside me. Gratefully sliding into his seat, I leaned back and rested my cheek on the cool contours of the window, watching the rain drops race to get to the bottom of the window first.

I had decided what I was going to do once jumping on the city bus, knowing the routes well since my mother still forbade me from getting a license. I would get off at the school and hope Mr. Quince was there to let me in. My heart pounded in my chest at the thought of drawing him, the boy that was in my head but I couldn't remember.

I clenched my fists angrily at my sides as the bus stopped yet again, still too far from my destination. I was only a few stops away from the school yet it seemed so long, my picture called to me, willing me to finish it. To do everything I could.

Finally the bus pulled up in front of the school, I stood up eagerly in front of the door, shifting from foot to foot. The moment the door is open I bounded through, not caring that my hood is down and my frizzy hair is now getting soaked again with rain pellets.

The day was ugly, the sky grey and weary. The leaves on the branches of the California trees drooped as if begging me to stop the harassment of the rain that pelted them. I shivered, the wetness making me cold.

The door was already unlocked, whether it was for the janitorial stuff or the teachers who had 'forgotten' to grade the night before. I eagerly entered the expansive main hallway, though it wasn't for the warmth that the heaters sent into me.

It took barely two minutes for me to jog down the hallways, my shoes slapping against the floor, to the art room. I eagerly brushed my hand on the door but it wouldn't budge. I yanked at the door knob, twisting and turning but it could not open.

An image flashed briefly before my eyes, one of those twisting shapes, but I ignored it.

I sighed in frustration, pounding on the small slat of a window with a gentle fist. There was no one inside. Figures, it was barely 4:30 in the morning.

Suddenly lost of energy, I slid down the locked closest to the door, hanging my head in my hand and trying to think.

What was happening to me? I felt like I was missing some thing, like I'd forgotten some thing huge and obvious. It was right in front of me, I could tell, yet I couldn't. I felt hot tears prick at my eyes as I tried to make sense of it all. Who was this Isabelle and the two masculine voices. What was the wing, and mostly who was the guy, the face I was urged to draw so greatly.

I didn't know how long I stood there, resisting the tears that threatened, though I do know that it was at least 5:00 by the time a busied Mr. Quince turned the corner and started when he saw me.

What a sight I must have been... With my ringlets of damp hair, blood shot eyes and gaunt cheeks. My clothes were wrinkled and did not match, my face and body incredibly pale. I must have had heavy bags under my eyes and my hood had fallen back far enough for him to see the tension in my neck.

He let out a long low breath, his young lips forming a silent 'o' as he stood still in the halls. Finally, he moved, coming towards my pathetic form slowly.

"Clary, are you alright?" he asked, concern and wariness crossing into his voice.

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry," I squeaked, my voice hoarse from disuse, "I just... I need to draw,"

Slowly, his face morphed into a gentle smile as he unlocked the door with a key that dangled from his wrist. He lent out a hand that I grasped gratefully to stand. I felt like my knees were going to give out for a moment before I steadied, my head pounding with lack of sleep.

"Did something happen that made you want to..?" he began, though I had already brushed by him and towards the row of supplies at the back.

"No," I said firmly, ignoring the smocks and pushing up the sleeves of my plain green sweatshirt.

"Alright," he shrugged, heading to a group of papers at his desk, "but if you need to talk..."

I didn't notice when he gave up, I was just glad he was done and I could be left to my own devices now. My hand was shaking as I gripped the charcoal in my hand, moving it to the easel I had dragged up. I stood rather then sat, my slim frame barely making it up high enough to touch the top of the tall structure.

I finally closed my eyes and let out a breath, suddenly unsure of myself.

When I opened them, my hand was steady and my eyes focused. I moved the long rod of charcoal along the sheet quickly, passion in every stroke. I barely noticed as I switched for a different color of charcoal and raised it again. It was only when I stepped back to look at my now complete work that my breath drew out in one long gasp.

The ball rang to signify the starting of school hours, though it was another fifteen minutes until classes would begin. The charcoal dropped out of my hand, cracking as it hit the floor. Mr. Quince stood up, his eyes wide and anxious.

I was staring into gold eyes.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! If you didn't read the beginning then I need a Beta reader! Information at the top. I'm getting restless without Jace and the other's in my story. :( Again, I'm sorry for the delay. I'll try and answer individual reviews next time, alright? Thanks to everyone!**

**Charlotte.**


	5. His History

**Alright, alright. I know that I haven't updated that soon but it's hard with school and work and everything. I just picked up a job and Script Frenzy is coming up soon... Plus, I don't have anything prewritten anymore so... It won't be too long, I love writing this story and your reviews and story alerts/favorites make me want to write even more. So... I'm sorry with any mistakes I made in this... I didn't want to keep you guys waiting and I suck at proof reading my own work anyway. So, tell me about the mistakes, alright?**

**DISCLAIMER : I don't own anything. :) ... cept some of the characters and the story lines, those are mine.**

**Read and review please! They make me happy. :)**

* * *

"Clarissa?" Mr. Quince said, as he hurried around his desk and towards me. He had abandoned his own sketchbook on his desk and the art of his students there too. He rushed to my side, aware of how still I had gone.

He froze when he saw my work, just as I had done. It was all made of different shades of dark charcoal except for the eyes. I didn't know what I had used for them, I didn't care. They were perfect. I felt some thing open up inside me, some thing that made me want to scream, to beg. I had no idea why. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move.

"Are you alright?" Mr. Quince finally asked, setting a hand on my arm.

"I... think so," I whispered, my voice hoarse.

"Maybe you should sit down," he murmured, pulling up the stool I had abandoned originally.

"I think so," I repeated, my voice shaky.

After a few moments of just the clock ticking I felt more calm though I still avoided looking into the eyes of my drawing or at the drawing at all. My breaths soon got even and my heart stopped racing.

"What happened?" Mr. Quince asked, his eyes severely curious.

"I just... I feel weird and..."

"Take your time," he offered, his hand raising in a calming gesture.

I took a large breath.

"I don't know him, the person I drew, yet, I feel so attached to him. How could I have drawn him, his eyes, if I didn't know him? I feel like I'm missing some thing, some thing big but I can't... I can't figure it out!" I said, my voice raising in frustration until I was suddenly standing.

Mr. Quince stood too, though it was more to stay level with my flushed face then to restrain me from my darting eyes. I felt that same feeling in my stomach, growing outwards to rest at my rib cage, just below my heart.

"Well, some times the mind closes out unpleasant things. Can you think of anything, anything at all you could be forgetting?" he asked, his voice calm and his eyes concerned.

"There's these voices," I began, aware of how crazy I sounded, "that I know are real but I can't place them. Then there's the drawings, I've drawn horrible pictures that I don't know and these little designs that I've named but I don't know why..."

"Clary, why does this matter so much to you? Your drawing is beautiful, must you really need to know who it is that you drew?" Mr. Quince asked, his voice soft.

I looked at my picture, taking in the chiseled jaw, the prominent cheekbones, the tousled hair and the eyes. Then the feeling enveloped me, changing from what it once was to some thing else. I felt the ghost of a hand in mine and of lips on my fore head. I clenched my hand, groping for anything either then what I came up with... air.

"Because... I think I love him,"

* * *

I nervously fingered my cafeteria tray, my eyes roaming over the other students towards our usual table near the middle of the mass. There sat Zoe, her eyes frowning and her blonde curls pulled up into a preppy pony tail. I knew she hadn't seen me and was glad for that. Mr. Quince had let me skip my first two periods, to go home and shower and change. He had even written me up a note but told me I had to face what had happened.

I took a deep breath and pushed against the throng of people, using the corner of my tray to part them even the tiniest of bits. When I reached the table I froze, in my return Will had sat down in his usual spot and the conversation between Zoe and him had gone silent when I approached.

"Hey," I muttered, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Hi, where were you in first?" Zoe asked, her voice nervous as she fingered her food. It was a habit of hers to twirl her hair or play with the closest thing when she was nervous.

"Home... I... my alarm clock didn't go off this morning," I responded, sliding into my seat slowly.

Will cleared his throat and looked down, he had skipped the food line to come and sit here, probably for the sole reason to beat me to the table just so that this would be even more awkward then it already was.

A flash of anger breathed through me and I had to work to steady it, it wouldn't solve anything.

"So... anyone else excited for home coming on Friday?" Zoe finally asked, only to break the awkward silence.

"I actually might not go," I murmured, tensing and waiting for her onslaught of words.

"Of course you're going," a new voice said, his voice teasing.

I turned back to see the blonde hair and tanned face of Chris, his own tray clutched in his hands. I couldn't help the grin that stretched my face as his twinkling eyes looked down at my own. I couldn't help but read the message inside of them.

_I got your back. _

"Exactly, I mean who cares if you don't have a date Clare, we already have our dress shopping date picked out!" Zoe added, also grateful for Chris' great timing.

Will looked up at this, "who says you don't have a date?"

I bit my lip and looked down while the other two just looked confused at this. Weren't we in a fight?

"I just assumed..." Zoe explained, shrugging her petite shoulders.

"Well don't assume, Clare's going with me," he snapped, crossing his arms in front of his chest and refusing to meet my eyes.

"I am, am I?" I muttered under my breath. Only Chris seemed to hear me and his face hardened as we fell into another silence that wasn't worth breaking this time.

I stood up awkwardly, still clutching my tray and walked away, leaving them just sitting there. I dumped my still full paper dishes in the garbage and walked out.

I was distracted by the foot steps running after me though, I turned to see Chris there, frowning slightly.

"You alright, Clare-bear? You've been acting pretty weird lately..." he said, running a hand through his already tousled hair.

"Y-yeah, I've just been thinking a lot about home, New York that is," I replied, shrugging it off.

"Oh, you never really mention it, do you miss it?" he asked, his eyes curious.

"I-" I began, though I found I couldn't continue.

I looked away from him, feeling the beginnings of some thing touching my mind. I felt agitated as why I couldn't remember this.

"I can't remember it, Chris, before I got here, any of it!" I finally burst, throwing my arms down in a fit of frustration. Chris raised an eye brow and stepped closer to me since I had unconsciously moved away from him as I thought about it.

"Well, you know that some thing happened then, you weren't in a coma or something," he said, chuckling slightly as he shook his head back and forth.

My mouth dropped open. Different images fluttered through my mind, scenes of our house mangled, my desperate voice calling out for my mother and her in the hospital, her red hair a splash of color against the drab sheets.

I could hear Chris calling after me as I turned and walked down the hall. Then my walk turned into a jog, then a run... until I was sprinting down the hall, my eyes blurring with an emotion I couldn't quite catch. I only had four words in my head, _she lied to me._

I felt the truth of that though I couldn't remember the lies she had told. My mother, I realized as I failed to bring up the pictures again, it was some thing about her. Some thing about being in another room and screaming at her to stop. That she had lied to me. I shook my head as I ran, feeling the hatred seep through me. She lied to me.

I blurred into the art room, aware that Mr. Quince wasn't in there and out with other teachers. I didn't know how I navigated the easels until I was in the little semi-circle of my own. I reached out and gripped the paper with the picture I had drawn in my hands before I brought it forward tugged.

It split into two pieces and I felt a sense of satisfaction touch me.

Then there was the horror. My picture, the one I had slaved over was split into two pieces. I turned and hurried out of the class room, not sure whether I was crying because of the information I'd just learned of or because of the boy, the picture that was ruined.

I hastily wiped my eyes as I rushed to the washroom, expecting to cry in there like many girls did.

I just did not understand what was happening to me. Why was everything so wrong? Why was loving Will so wrong, of having fun with Chris so wrong? Why was Zoe's incessant pointless chatter so pointless to me? The worst thing though was not knowing why I felt it was wrong. Not knowing why every thing was the way it was. Why my mother had stopped painting those landscapes she slaved over, why we had moved to California. Why I couldn't remember any thing those last few months of summer. Why the last memory I had of Simon was dancing in Pandemonium. Why was everything so confusing.

I pushed into the last stall of the bathroom and dropped my book bag, resting my fore head against the cool of the stall. Yet, the coolness wasn't what I wanted, I wanted warmth against me and a sound. A heartbeat?

"Argh!" I groaned, this was so frustrating! Why couldn't I remember some thing that I loved? For I knew I loved it, loved the people I heard, the things I'd seen. I knew that what I was missing was big, it was a part of me. That it shaped me.

The bell rang signaling the end of lunch, and I took a deep breath. I had ended up sitting on the top of the toilet, my hands clutching my head. I was confused when I heard the chatter of students in the halls. Wait, that was the bell signaling the end of class!

I pulled off of the seat, grabbing my bag and pushed out of the stall, earning a few suspicious glances from the girls at the mirrors as they tried to fathom when I had come in. I ignored them, glad that my tears had tried and only left a few streaks.

I hurried down the quickly emptying halls until I reached the art room with the last lingering students. I walked over to the small semi circle, not caring that Will was there or Chris or even Zoe. I felt that they were pitiful next to my other problems.

When I looked up before reaching there I saw that everyone was gathered around my drawing. I gulped and sat down at the nearest stool, not caring that it wasn't my own. I watched as Mr. Quince came in and noticed the gathering and walked over. He froze when he saw it.

"Who did this?" he asked, his voice shaking in rage. I could only imagine the thoughts in his head as he thought of who would wreck another students painting.

"I did," I said simply, my voice flat.

All eyes turned to me.

"What, why would you do?" Mr. Quince demanded, fire in his eyes.

"I felt it needed it," I replied coldly.

"Clarissa would you please see me after class?" he asked, sighing as he went back up to his desk, "get to work!"

The class separated, all stealing glances at me as if I couldn't see them. I walked over to take my place and stared at the two sheets of paper that were frayed and broken jaggedly down the center. Right in between the eyes. I grimaced at it and looked away. A hand fell on my shoulder and I flinched.

"Clare-bear," Will asked, "What's going on?"

His voice actually sounded scared, scared of what I was going through. I felt sympathy wash over me then and managed a small smile that he didn't see through. I hated that he didn't see through it, thought he should have, they would have whoever they were.

"I'm sorry," I told him, looking at the rest of my friends as saying this, "I've just been feeling sort of sick lately and missing New York,"

I saw their nods as they let it go immediately, though I felt annoyed at how quickly they dispelled this I joined in in the conversation as I avoided looking at my mangled drawing. I told Zoe that since it was two days until home coming we could go tonight for dresses. That seemed to seal the deal on her forgiving me as she eagerly agreed and prattled on about how she had said yes to a guy named Ryan.

I nodded and agreed at the right times, dreading the time when the class would end.

"Clary," Mr. Quince said and I flinched at the sound of my old name, forgetting I had told him.

I fiddled with the hem of my shirt, resisting the urge to glance at Zoe's face in the doorway. The class was empty spare one kid at the back end washing out his paints, though I knew he was just trying to hear what I said. Luckily enough, Mr. Quince paused until he was forced to leave the room, blushing and muttering under his breath.

"What happened?" he finally breathed, looking up into my green eyes.

"Nothing," I began, but seeing his wary expression I continued, "I just felt so frustrated with not knowing who it was that I ripped it, I'm sorry,"

My voice fell flat and almost cold, as it had been for the whole lesson, my eyes far off and dull. I could almost hear Mr. Quince's thoughts about my gaunt cheeks and pale skin. Though, I knew he had never seen it at it's height. He had never seen it when my eyes sparkled with laughter or my hair bounced with ruthless curls. No, he saw this fake Clary here, Clare.

"Don't apologize to me, it's you I'm worried about," he told me, pointing a finger at me absently.

"I'm fine, Mr. Quince, there _isn't _anything to worry about," I said.

"Very well, see you tomorrow," he said.

"Yes, tomorrow," I agreed, turning to follow Zoe down the hall ways.

As she chattered on about dresses and the styles she wanted I couldn't help but think back to a dress I remembered wearing but couldn't pull up in my mind. Hm, maybe I'd be reminded shopping or some thing.

* * *

"What about this one Clare-bear?" Zoe asked, twirling around in an aquamarine sleeve less dress. She fluffed her hair once for effect and struck a pose with a hand on her hip, I shook my head silently and told her it was okay.

"I like it... hey, what about the one's you picked out?" Zoe huffed, turning around to primp herself in the mirror.

"Umm... I didn't choose any," I whispered, shrugging my shoulders.

"What?! Clare! We're supposed to find a dress tonight!" She complained, "I'll go look for you and you get out of your clothes, kay?"

And before I could answer she had turned around and walked out of the dressing room without changing. She either liked that dress or there were cute guys out side, I thought, pulling off my clothes layer by layer until I was just in a tank top and small shorts that I wore underneath everything.

I sighed and thought of the moment of deja-vu I had had while glancing at the racks. It had been a short black dress, more of a shirt if you asked me, with lace detailing. I had felt that I had seen it before, or some thing similar or even... felt it before. Felt the smooth fabric against skin, but not my skin.

My thoughts were cleared as Zoe pranced back and gushed about her find, "Oh Clare! You'll look fabulous in this dress!"

She handed me the dark garment bag and I unzipped it, expecting tool and pink but being shocked by what I found. It was emerald green velvet, the exact color of my eyes with black lace intricately placed around the edges. It flared out at the hips until it reached above my knees where it tapered off. To add volume to the thin silk material of the skirt there was the lace underneath, visible when you moved. I knew it was right before trying it on.

"Thanks Zo," I murmured, feeling the smooth fabric in between my thumb and index finger.

"No problem, now go try it on!"

When I returned home it was clutching the smooth bag that the dress had come in and another shoe box with silver heels that Zoe had all but thrust upon my unwilling arms. I struggled inside, pushing open the screen door while managing to call out to my mother. I couldn't get that image and those words from earlier out of my head. She lied to me. Still, I worried.

When there was no answer I felt panic bubbling up inside of me, unnecessary panic that is, I realized as I plucked off the torn note from the fridge saying she had gone out for the weekend to a last minute artists convention. I had no idea why my heart still beat so fast but just ignored it.

As I walked in I noticed some thing different about the area, like some thing was sharper, clearer almost. I bit my lip as I dumped every thing onto my bed and walked into my room. There sitting on my bed was the lap top I'd discarded earlier. I fingered it uselessly, pushing at the different keys absently. I hadn't even noticed that I had turned it on earlier. In fact, I thought I hadn't...

Shrugging, I opened up a new document and began to type up the essay I had due. It was only when Chris called with questions on the home work that I stopped my work and began to laugh and giggle with him like old times. I felt some thing missing though, that feeling in my chest... there was just some thing not there, some thing missing.

I began to finger the keys again as I talked to Chris. I hung up a few minutes later telling him I had to finish. It was when I looked at the screen that I noticed that I hadn't just been meandering over the keys. I had typed letters... words... a sentence. I read it in shock, uncomprehending.

**Valentine is my father.**

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**That's pretty much all... :) Hope you like it! Please review, I love hearing your comments. :D Getting back to my GLEE marathon! EEH! I'm a Puckleberry fan myself. :)))) Night everyone! I'll try and update soon... -ish?**

**Charlotte**


	6. His Prisoner

**Hey everyone! Guess what... well, I guess you've already guessed slightly? I'm back! And I think I've found myself as a writer... ish? I'm not saying I'm perfect yet, oh god no! But, I'm better than I was before. So today, after coming home and sitting down I began to think about my life. Sounds corny but it wasn't. I felt some thing missing and I eventually figured it out. It was writing this. I hate to leave things unfinished and I had to do this. So I plotted a bit for the whole thing and a lot for the next two chapters. And... VOILA! I hope my old fans are still willing to read this, you guys are really what urged me to write. **

**I'm really proud of this chapter, I think the writing is some thing to be proud of at least. It's sort of a filler chapter though, only sort of. I mean, it's not like it's fluff, it's serious business that will have regards to future chapters and the rest of the story BUT it's leading up to the next chapter which will be HUGE and that I'm very excited to write for you all. :)**

I recommend you re-read the last chapters, or at least skim them since this is sort of like an accumulation of those things happening all together and fast paced. Also, please review, they seriously make my day.

**Oh yes. I don't own anything. :D  
Voila! **

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**Return To Me - His Prisoner** - **Chapter 7**

My paint brush glided across the canvas blindly, the slick black paint catching the fluorescent school lighting. I breathed in a shaky breath, easily hiding my discomfort from my friends as they prattled on about something or other. Today had seemed... hard. Everything I did didn't seem right, as if I didn't fit in now. It angered me, to perpetually feel like an outsider while looking happy and comfortable.

It probably bugged me more that my friends didn't notice. Probably.

I faked a laugh as Chris flicked yellow paint at Zoe and she slapped him with some blue. The laugh didn't catch my eyes, I knew, yet I didn't say anything as I continued to paint in fine miniature strokes. I watched as the teacher put the paint fight to an end with a chiding look and the threat of removing the paints all together. I blinked and plastered on a sheepish look. They took it easily.

"So, Clare-bear, excited for tomorrow?" Zoe asked, obviously striving for a new topic of conversation now that she noticed the strained silence.

"Sure?" I tried, which earned chuckles around the group, "I don't really like dancing,"

_"Maybe you weren't dancing with the right person," _

A shiver went down my spine at the silky voice. Yearning flew towards that voice and I began to shake. It took me a moment until I was back up and running. I noticed that my friends were now laughing at Zoe's poor version of a water lily. I threw in a joke to make them happy though I was still wary of that attack. It was the first one that day, I thought they might have stopped.

"Guess what mine is?" Will said, grinning as he held up a blob of silver, black and white paint that was pretty much undistinguishable.

"Umm..." Chris pretended to ponder, "Hitler?"

Zoe laughed and hit him upside the head in that sisterly way of theirs while Will shook his head mock sadly.

"It looks like a motorcycle to me," I mumbled before I could stop myself.

Zoe stopped, appraising the picture that Will still held up. She had a furrow in her eyebrows and her green eyes looked like this was the most thinking she'd done since she had decided to pick between the wedges or the stiletto's.

"Why is it in the center of the page though? Motorcycle's can't fly, Clare-bear," Chris said, ruffling my hair with a large hand.

I fixed my straightened hair with one hand and blushed in irritation. He made me feel like a child. I shot him a look that he didn't see since he and Zoe were back bickering. I froze mid glare. Why was I attacking my friends like this? Shaking my head to rid myself of these pessimistic thoughts, I pushed myself to continue painting. Yet, I was still one edge. Why? A flying motorcycle didn't seem that preposterous to me.

I trudged towards the city bus I took to my house, my book bag over my shoulder and the fake smile gone from my face now that my friends had gone their separate ways. I shook my head and shivered in the light breeze, the heat getting to me in that way it did some times. I was stuck on the morbid thoughts of what was going on to me when a hand lay on my shoulder. I reacted without thinking.

When I came back into my thoughts, the poor Sophomore behind me was on his back, my sketchbook in hand and a terrified look on his face.

_"Very good, Clary," _A voice resounded in my head, that same voice.

I stared for a moment at him before snatching my book from his hands and turned to run past the bus stop and towards my house, the words echoing in my ears.

I had just knocked a kid down automatically, like I do it all the time. I felt hot tears burn my cheeks. What was happening to me? Some thing was eating away at my inside's but I couldn't figure it out. Why couldn't I remember? Why?

I dropped my bag angrily, tossed it into a bush halfway through my house and downright sprinted the rest of the way. Instead of protesting, my muscles seemed almost happy at my change in pace and took on my running eagerly. It felt good to run. And it had felt right to do that to that boy. What was happening really happening to me? What was going on?

I was completely shuddering by the time I reached my house and barely managed to find my spare key and let myself in. I didn't acknowledge the note from my mother and hurried to the kitchen drawers. My mind felt like it was on over drive as I hurriedly shifted through the knife drawer, not knowing what I was doing.

I hated what was happening but I couldn't stop. The knife glided across my skin, not too deeply, only leading a small trickle of blood in it's wake and a whole lot of pain. Yet, the pain wasn't for the cut, it was this intense feeling inside of me as I sat on my kitchen floor, clutching my bleeding wrist in my hands and sobbing.

"What's happening to me?" I cried out, throwing the knife across the room until it skidded into the door post.

"What's going on. I'm scared, Jace," I found myself whispering, yearning for some thing that I didn't know what. All I knew was I wanted arms around me, and not the arms of a friend or of my mother. I wanted the feel of some one behind me, holding me and comforting me. When none came I banged my head against the counter behind me and cried harder. I was unraveling at the seams, and I didn't know where my needle and thread was.

I finally calmed down, some time later, enough so that only tracks of tears remained on my cheeks and my heart only ached a little bit. Still clutching at my wrist, I glanced down at it. It made some sort of pattern. Some sort of curving shape or emblem. I found curiosity replacing my fear and I tried to decipher what it was. One word came to me. _Remember._

"Remember," I repeated, chuckling softly, "The one thing I can't have is the one thing I need,"

I stood up, clutching the counter for support as my mind rung with bitter tiredness. In between one step and another I saw a white spark struck off some thing on the floor. It was the knife I had used to draw that weird shape on my skin. I jerked hastily back to avoid stepping on it, and my shoulder rammed into the wall.

The arms I expected to didn't catch me and I fell down into the wall, a curse at my lips and anger bubbling inside of me like the bruise that was steadily forming on my side. It was that time that the phone beside me rang and I jumped.

"Calm down Clary, you're just overtired," I lied to myself.

I reached over tiredly and picked up the receiver, my eye drooping already in exhaustion. I knew it wasn't one of the gang or else they would have called my cell phone, so it was either some one for my mother or a telemarketer.

"Hello?" I snapped, wanting to get off and to bed.

"Clary!" A voice almost yelled on the other end. A familiar voice. A familiar voice that called me Clary. A familiar voice that hadn't said goodbye to me.

"Simon? What do you want?" I asked, though a bit of hope crossed my face.

"Clary- You have to-" he began, before he stopped and some one spoke in the background.

"Why didn't you say goodbye to me, Simon? You hurt me so you better hurry up and telling me whatever you wanted to because I have things to do," I interrupted.

"Just..." he sounded like he was struggling to say whatever it was, yet there was hurt in his tone, "look in your mom's studio, look Clary at the-"

The phone line cut off, I looked at the phone in shock and anger. How dare he hang up on me. Yet, it sounded like he didn't... some one else did. I shrugged indifferently though on the inside I felt some thing pulling at my mind, begging me to comprehend.

Why would I look in my mom's studio? She had forbid me to. Though, that was weird. I hadn't questioned it at first but... wait, why didn't I question it in the first place? When thinking back to that time I felt my mind as if some thing was breaking through and suddenly I had to go in there. I had to see.

I jogged down the hallway until I was at the end and looking up at the attic door. I stood up on my tiptoes and pulled the door down, the surprisingly clean steps falling down for me. I climbed up the steps watching my step.

So when I looked up, I almost fell back down the stairs. Mountains of canvas were piled against the wall, all of beautiful landscapes of a place that was familiar to me. Especially the one of the sparkling lake. I walked closer without my consent, my hand pulled up to touch the rough paints. It looked like it was sparkling, a light and there was some thing coming out of the water. No, some one. With wings and light illuminating him. Then there, on the beach were forms. Only two though it seemed the portrait was from some one's point of view. A third person you could say. One was just shadows, laying there on the grass, his head turned to the side and some thing pooling around his chest. Blood, I realized with a gasp. Then there was another form, illuminated by the light of the angel. A man with a cold face open in a maniacal smirk. Why would my mom paint this and the other similar ones around it? These were gruesome, twisted, horrible.

Entranced by the painting, I noticed some thing off to the right corner. A signature. Weird, my mom signed in the left as her 'thing'. But that wasn't my mom's signature. No. It was mine. I gasped and traveled back a few steps, my vision blurring slightly in fear. Autophobia. Fear of oneself.

I turned and without a second thought, fled the attic. I closed the door behind me blindly, just wanting to return to bed and be comforted by the warm sheets. I didn't doubt that I had painted those. I just... I couldn't comprehend how, with know knowledge of ever doing them.

My fast pace slowed to a walk as I picked up the knife and put it away- not washing away the blood. I hastily read the note on the kitchen table. My mom would be away until Sunday at a convention. The neighbors were watching to make sure nothing happened to me. I threw it back down on the table indifferently, she had lied to me so I felt no remorse at her absence.

I walked into my room, pushing aside the computer and going into my closet to change into pajamas. I was freezing, though it was hot outside and the air conditioning wasn't on. I remembered my whole fleece bottoms from when I lived in New York. Where were they? Oh yeah, up above.

I was just too small to reach the box of winter clothing above me. I sighed, not wanting to get the stool. I began to jump up to try and reach it, my legs landing with a thud on the ground after each jump. Finally, the box tumbled down and I hastily dodged getting hit by a hard corner. Yet, with it, came down some thing hard and wrapped in fabric that _did _hit me in the head.

"Ow, what in the-" I muttered, unwinding the thing's wrappings. It was a men's shirt that encased the hard thing. I gazed at the navy blue shirt, some thing flickering at the back of my head as I looked at it. I leaned in and smelt it. It smelt like soap, iron and some thing else I couldn't place. Yet, it was _his _smell.

Whoever he was. I stripped off my clothes, spare my underwear and wrapped myself in it. It felt perfectly pleasant and big against my skin, like it was meant to be there. I smiled, feeling comfortable for the first time in weeks. I didn't even think about why it would be in my closet, I just enjoyed the feel of it against my ivory skin.

Yet, in all my excitement I had forgotten about the hard object that had hit me. I turned around and picked it up from the ground. It was a necklace. No, it was a ring on a chain. The ring was large and looked like it was meant for a man's hands. It had a W on it, engraved with a star. Confused, I walked over to my bed and sat down.

I was much calmer inspecting this than the painting upstairs, or the phone call from Simon. It might have been the man's shirt I was wearing or maybe it was just because I was getting used to the crazy things happening, I wasn't sure.

I let out an exasperated breath before throwing the thing into my nightstand for later inspection.

I curled up over top of my covers inside the shirt, breathing in the glorious scent. I loved the smell already and I wondered who's it was. Maybe it was my father's when he was alive. At that thought, some thing nagged at the back of my mind but I ignored it, wallowing in my new found comfort. I fell asleep quickly.

And for the first time since moving here, I didn't have any nightmares.

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**So, that's all. I promise you the next chapter will be up soon and will be filled with LOTS of drama and good stuff. I apologize for any typo's or things like that. I did re-read it but I'm human, I miss things. The song I really enjoyed listening to with this was Prisoners by Regina Spektor. That's sort of the inspiration for the title too. :)**

Please review! They make my day! 

**Charlotte. **


	7. His Darkness

**You guys have no idea how dedicated I am to you! Ha-ha! :D I'm at my DANCE STUDIO uploading this when I could be having my break just so I could get it out for y'all. I think this is the week mark? It might be more but I don't think, so? :) I hope not at least. This is 'the chapter' as I call it. The bane of my existance. Can I tell you a secret? I had already had it all written before this, all 3,000 words of it. What happened? I hated it all so out the window it went. I found it focused too much on the clues and not on the turmoil. Anywho, here you go! Thanks to all the reviewers by the way, but I have to tell you I don't appreciate it when you ask me when she'll meet Jace. She'll meet him whenever she does, I don't even know yet and I write this! Thanks though! :)**

**I don't own anything. :))))**

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I looked dead, I knew that. The nightmare's had been even worse last night. So here I was, trying to be relatively normal as my friends twittered on excitedly about the dance. I clutched at straws, trying to find some way to fit in to what they were talking about but finding none. I felt like I could only bury myself in my hood and try to nod and look happy.

"Clare-bear, are you even listening to me?" Zoe asked, though her words held no anger in them.

"Yeah," I said simply, looking up from my lunch.

"You sure, you look all spaced out and junk,"

"Sorry, I just... didn't get much sleep last night," I finally supplied, which seemed to catch her suspicions just fine. At least, from where she went back to her chirping.

No one said anything. No one realized the internal battle that went on inside my head. For once in this group, I felt like an outsider, like I was above them. No, not above, below them. They were far above me, they were happy not this insincere version of happy that I felt.

I looked around the group, at Will, Chris and Zoe. They each had a face of contentment, they all had worries sure, but they were trivial. Yet, who was I to feel above them? Who was I to think that they knew nothing?

Disgusted with myself, I pushed my food away from me. The high school cafeteria was wrong. This was all wrong. I was wrong for thinking like this.

"Agh," I groaned, not realizing it was out loud until I saw the odd looks around the table.

"What's up, Clare?" Chris asked, his eyes suspicious.

"Nothing, I'm fine," I insisted to veiled ears.

"Come on, Clare-bear, you know you can tell me anything," Will said.

I couldn't help but catch the obvious seclusion of him that he made to the group, the look he gave Chris especially. _No, I really can't, _I thought, though I didn't say it. I couldn't say it.

"I'm really fine," I attempted, plastering a smile on my face for their benefit.

To my surprise, everyone took the bait I offered them and went back to their lives. It left me with a bitter taste in my mouth and matching thoughts in my head.

It was when Will put his arm around me and leaned down to give me a satisfied kiss that I seemed to snap. I pushed him away silently, a scowl on my face. I didn't miss the looks of confusion on everyone's face.

"Hey, what's going on Clare-bear?" Will demanded, his perfect facade slipping as I saw into his panic filled eyes.

"I don't have to tell you guys everything, why won't you just leave me alone?" I snapped, grabbing my book bag from underneath the table and avoiding their gazes as I stalked out.

I was happier in the silence.

I felt like everyone was staring at me as I hurried down the hallway, trying to look normal. Their eyes burned holes in my head though, piercing and shallow. I grabbed my hood and pulled it down farther over my eyes. I couldn't help the nervous shift of my eyes from person to person. "Stop being so paranoid," I whispered to myself, lowering my eyes from their accusing looks.

I almost skidded into a set of lockers when I saw some thing out of the corner of my eyes in the art classroom. I swear it was... blue sparks?

"Mr. Quince?" I stuttered, knocking softly on his door.

He whirled around from where he was crouched on one of the desks, over some thing. I narrowed my eyes at the item in vain but he covered it up with his body when he noticed me looking.

"Yes, Clarissa? I don't believe I have you for another few periods, am I correct?" he asked, his eyes guarded and his voice cold.

"I could have sworn I saw some thing in here," I stated boldly, not daring for pretenses.

"What?" he asked, "Maybe it was just a trick of the light,"

Yet, his answer was too quick, too hurried. I caught some thing out of the corner of my eyes, a piece of some thing.

"Is that my art project?" I gasped, pointing with a shaky hand towards the picture behind him.

I stalked forward and grabbed it from behind him. He didn't bother to stop me.

"W-what happened? It's not ripped anymore," I said, confusion evident in my tone as I flipped it over, looking for a sign of an adhesive.

Yet, there was nothing. It was like it had never been ripped before, pristine as though I'd just drawn it. There _he _was. He. Looking up at me through perfect eyes. It was all too much.

"Why is everyone lying to me?" I hollered, grabbing it with two hands and trying to correct his mistake.

"This isn't what it's supposed to be like! You ruined it with your magic and things, leave well enough alone! It's mine, he's mine!" I practically screamed, ripping it clean down the page.

He watched me with gentle eyes, still standing frozen beside me as he watched me repeated tear at the paper, anger in my eyes. No tears wet my cheeks, only frustration and despair at being lied to repeated... at not knowing what my own life was about.

I threw the remains down and stormed out of the classroom. I didn't see the faces, I didn't hear the tittering gossip going along as I ran out of the classroom, out of the school. I might have run farther if I hadn't realized what I had just done. Instead I just stopped and feeling more weary than upset, I slowed to a walk.

I passed by the cliffs of the beach and the numerous shops with nothing but remorse on my brain. I felt like some one had set a fog onto my head and here I was, stuck with it sitting on me, making me feel like I couldn't think at all. Some one could have hit me over the head with a blade and I wouldn't have noticed, I was sure. Where would some one get a blade in this part of town, though? My brain might be shady but it still thought ridiculous thoughts.

When I made it home I collapsed on the bed and fell instantly to sleep, my brain over worked from the pain and tears of the last few days. Memories plagued my brain, of places I couldn't begin to remember.

_ An angel rises up from the ground, clutching at a long sword with an elegant hand. He has tortured eyes and skin marked with strange tattoo's, similar to the one's I had drawn. He was rising out of what looked like the ruins of a large house. It would have been beautiful if not for the pungent smell of pain in the air. _

_ The figure writhed in agony as it rose, a light so blinding illuminating every thing that surrounded it that I was forced to shield my eyes. When I was finally allowed to look back at it, it was gone. Leaving only a shield of sorrow and loss inside of me. I felt like I was not looking into the empty sky anymore, but into the golden eyes of a lifeless body. The feeling intensified until I felt like I was choking in it. _

_ Then, just as suddenly as it came up, it was gone and my eyes were flickering back to reality._

When I woke I was covered in a cold sweat. I sat up suddenly, clutching at my chest as if the echo of that feeling. It took me a moment before I could breathe again, before I could bring myself fully out of the dream. There was no doubt that that was a nightmare, one of the largest that I'd had.

Sure, I hadn't been chased by monsters with scales or kidnapped by creatures that were unimaginable but that feeling inside of me was much worse than that.

Finally, I managed to stand up properly, though my legs were shaky. When I glanced at the clock, I saw that it was 8:00, a half an hour before I was due to meet my friends at the dance. Well, I wasn't sure if I was still meeting them but.

I felt remorse them, at the way I had treated them, it wasn't their fault that I was having a bad week. It wasn't their fault that I had some sort of mental issue or that I couldn't remember what I had done last summer. I had to apologize to them, and I had to do it at the dance.

It was an exactly fourty-seven minutes and twenty six seconds later that I stepped out of the bathroom ready to go. Exactly fourty-seven minutes and thirty four seconds when I looked in the mirror and froze, though the time was still ticking away.

I looked like some one I didn't recognize, yet some one familiar all the same. My hair was up in a clumsy up do that I had just managed to stick enough pins into to keep it up. My dress was the one that we had bought but it seemed to fit better than before, the back seeming to arch farther down so I was totally bare. There was some thing missing though.

With shaky hands, I reached over to open up my bedside table. I removed the chain with the ring on it in caution, clipping it around my neck. Satisfied I turned to leave. I stopped though when I remembered the purse I was going to take of my mothers. It wasn't exactly a purse, more of a backpack.

I sauntered into my mother's room, feeling oddly confident in my actions. Opening up her closet, I bent onto my knees and began rifling through her things. It was there that I saw the box that I associated with my childhood, the box that my mother took out once a year to cry over, the box with the initials J. C on it.

I fingered the edges carefully, debating with myself whether to pull the latch up and steal a glance inside. The old me never would have, the old me would have left well enough alone and gone on with my life because I liked it normal. Yet, staring at it reminded me that my life wasn't normal. It had never been normal.

Pain radiated off my chest as I stared at the box, a feeling I was confused about. I seemed to be confused a lot lately, wasn't I?

Taking a deep breath, I pulled off the top of the box and let it fall back, shaking slightly at the rebound. Nothing could have ever prepared me for what I saw inside.

_Photo's. _Crisp recently printed ones of... me? I picked the first one off the top and examined it. It was a picture of me and... a man? We were smiling in front of a large fountain, our arms wrapped around each other.

What hurt me so? It was the look of love we gave each other, the look of eternal devotion and trust. Secondly? The way he held his arms around me, his stature protective. Lastly? He was the boy I had drawn, the boy that I knew caused all of this.

My fingers clenched around the photo, cautiously turning it over to recognize m own script.

_Jace and I. Idris hall. August 30th. _

Jace. My lips curled around the name, speaking it out loud. Even by saying it it evoked such an emotion in me that I found tears prickling my eyes. Yet, along with the tears came some thing else.

Betrayal at what my mother was keeping from me. Sadness at what I was missing. Yearning for this Jace. Fierce longing for that old happiness and care. **Determined, **of the fact that I was going to find my old life, however long it took.

I stood up on surprisingly strong legs and walked out of the house, tucking the box into my school bag. I didn't care that it was a long way to the school, I was powered by my need for this.

When I arrived at the dance, I was a half hour late, my hair had fallen out and my eyes were cold to any one who bothered looking. I clamored down the large steps, ignoring the stares I earned.

Chris' eyes found me first, widening slightly at my frazzled looks. Upon seeing this, Will looked also along with Zoe. They stood in a semi circle, alone. Perfect. I didn't part the way like I had been hoping, but had to fight my way through the people. When I finally ended up in front of them, elbows aching from the jostling, they looked wary.

"Clare," Zoe acknowledge sourly, always one to hold a grudge. This bristled at me but I kept silent.

"When I came here," I whispered, "When I first came here, what made you want to befriend me,"

They stared at me, shocked at my question. I could see Will swallow in nerves and Zoe just look baffled. I didn't care about them though, it was Chris that I needed to tell me, to remind me. I focused my emerald eyes on him, piercing through his own like knives.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. A part of me regretted the confusion I was causing him, but another part of me didn't care. Evidently, the part that didn't care was more prominent.

"I guess it was the mystery," he gave out, which earned confused looks from the rest of the group.

"Don't you remember? When we first saw you had this absolute look of hatred on your face and looked miserable, standing by the cliffs. When we asked you if you were going to jump you just about pounced on us with accusations. We all thought you were the rudest bitch we'd ever met to be honest," he chuckled humorlessly before continuing, "But the next day when you showed up the same place you looked confused but still happy. That's what got me at least,"

I swallowed, my heart beating erratically.

"What did I say? The first time you talked to me," I whispered softly.

They exchanged glances.

Will spoke first, in a slow tone, "You don't remember?"

"No," I murmured persistently, "Tell me!"

"Well, you called us mundies or some other weird thing and you kept saying these weird expressions like... what was it? "Thank the angel" or some thing," Zoe said after a moment, her anger gone down with the weirdness of having to explain this to me, "But then you never said it again. It was really weird,"

They either didn't notice my erratic breathing or just didn't care. I had to put a hand to the table beside me to steady myself, afraid I might keel over with shock. That would be sort of ironic, I let myself think, considering all I'd been through. They looked at me through hooded eyes, their looks slightly angry in that infuriating way the people here looked. They didn't know what pure anger was, what pure _hatred _was. Yet, some how, I knew _I knew. _

"I have to go," I muttered, turning abruptly to leave.

"Clare!" Chris burst out, reaching to grab my arm.

I rushed out of his grasp. My force should have pushed me into the table but it didn't, no, it didn't, not at all. I seemed to sense where I was going prematurely and was able to wrench out of the harms way. This could have been described as lucky, could have been passed off. If not for the defensive crouch I'd tumbled into upon landing, if not for the murderously paranoid look on my face, if not for the fear in my friends.

"I- I'm sorry," I offered before turning to run out.

It was the kind of whether that girls hated. The kind of weather that frizzed hair and made sweat marks. I didn't care though, I already looked like an idiot enough in my grande dress and light make up. Without realizing it I was twirling the necklace around my fingers.

"Hey!" I screamed suddenly, jumping out halfway onto the street.

The cabbie screeched to a halt, barely making it in time to stop for me.

"Hey, yourself! I could have hit you!" he barked to deaf ears as I slid into the back of the compartment.

"Airport," I snapped, pushing my damp hair away from my eyes and giving him a sharp look. I didn't think it would have that affect on him but there was some thing in my look that made him drop the subject of nearly running me over.

He had almost a rough look to him, his hair over grown and a hat covering the rest of his head. He was young, almost too young to be out of school but he had an aged look in his eyes. There was also a long scar along his neck that went down his body until it was hidden under his shirt. I sniffed, smelling pine. Probably just a cheap air freshener.

"Where you headed to?"

I grinned at this, my white teeth flashing in the darkness. He almost flinched back at my sudden change of mood.

"New York," I answered, smiling from ear to ear.

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**I have to hurry this because my annoying friend Molly just came in and she told me to 'hurry my face' and get on Omegle. :) Hope you liked it! Review please! Charlotte.**


	8. His Fight

**Hey everyone! I'm back and it hasn't been too long! Hooray for random bursts of inspiration for writing, especially quotes that basically tell you to get off your arse and right. :) Anyways, I finally gave all of you what you wanted... sort of. Just read and see. :)**

**Oh, and this chapter is dedicated to my bestfriend and psychosister Lily. She was the one that made me want to write after calling me to tell me she'd started writing her chapter on our mutual fanfiction. Go COT! :) Let's just say that without this girl then I would be dead to life and she makes my days a bit brighter. Even if her memory is like a rock. XD **

**Oh, and if you want (which you probably don't) then you can follow me on twitter. I post A LOT about Return To Me and how it's bothering me. Also, while you're at it. Follow Cassandra Clare. Who owns this not me. Anyway, I'm Char_Little**

**Yeah, the DISCLAIMER is up there. Hidden. Boochyea.**

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"Flight attendants, please secure cabin for landing,"

My head snapped up at the crackling voice, startling the man seated beside me. I nodded my head towards him amicably, smoothing out the fancy dress I wore. I had earned myself several suspicious looks as I hurried around the airport, telling lie after lie in my dress and elaborate hair-do.

The man sitting beside me had gotten on my nerves the moment he had sat down. There was some thing in the nervous way he flinched whenever I moved or the flitting of his eyes to my left wrist that bugged me. He was well built in his mid forties with his eyes lined heavily in stress and he was _scared of me._

I shifted slightly away from him as his bright green eyes met mine momentarily, looking towards the window.

When I felt the plane begin to descend, I had to bite my lip to stop form shouting in excitement. I was stunningly not nearly as nervous as I should have been considering I had no idea what I was going to do it New York. Yet, as we pulled onto the tarmac moments later, my heart leapt into my chest painfully.

I gasped slightly and looked back out the window, clutching the armrest beside me and pointing with the other hand to the nothingness before me.

Without thinking, I turned to the man beside me and blurted out, "Did you just see that?" I watched as he blinked several times and shifted around nervously in the hard plastic seating.

"Did you?" I prodded, getting impatient as I looked out the window.

"No miss, I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered in a low voice, purposely low.

I narrowed my eyes at his suspicious behavior before leaning back in my seat and turning away. I couldn't really blame him, he was probably just bugged out at having to sit beside me.

Yet, even as I tried to convince myself otherwise, I could have sworn that what I saw was real. It was a monster from my nightmares, a flying creature that reared it's ugly head my way through the window. I was probably just over tired, I allowed. After all, I hadn't slept in over 20 hours.

I hadn't flown before, ever. So the whole thing was sort of awkward for me as I clutched my small bag to me and pushed through the crowds. All I had with me was my wallet, cell phone, small jacket and that picture of me and the man. I couldn't say his name, every time I tried I seemed to freeze up and get this intense feeling of pain on me.

I finally made my way out of the busy terminal and towards a row of carefully lined up ATM's. Clutching my purse to me and glancing around nervously, I waited my turn for the money machines.

I was to go behind a woman with a screaming child and exhausted eyes. Some thing in the way she gripped the child around the shoulders made me anxious. I was glad when it was my turn, the ghost of cold hard hands holding me like a father would. I shivered, I had never know my father.

I stumbled as I pulled out my bank card, trying to hurry up for the other people in line. I was tired of the looks I was getting, wishing to be out on the streets already in the mid afternoon eccentricity of New York.

It shouldn't be that weird, anyway. Sure, my make up was smudging so I looked like I was a raccoon or I had a back pack with an expensive dress on but it wasn't _that _odd. Okay, maybe with the fact that my wild hair was falling down or that I was wearing shoes with the heels snapped off - purposely - but still.

Sighing I looked at the money in my savings account. Before all this had happened they'd been intended to get myself a car but now... I didn't know what was happening now. My whole life had changed.

"Yo, miss! You gonna get some money or just stare at the screen?" some one barked.

I didn't turn around to acknowledge the person, only blushing and punching out the exact number that I had and watching as the machine spurted out five thousand and twenty-eight bucks worth of babysitting money.

Sighing, I tucked it into my wallet and turned away, avoiding the grumpy person behind me in line and just walking out the doors. The sun had already started to set, as it did when it got closer to winter.

Where to start?

"This was such a stupid idea," I blinked, shaking my head.

I had no incentive as to which way to go, how long I'd be there or even what I was looking for. No, that's a lie, I was looking for the truth.

The line in front of the clubs were outrageous, even on a Friday night. Even though the weather was on the cooler side, I was still in my insane dress and I looked like a raccoon, I was considerably happier than before. I tried to tell myself it was because I was in New York, the place I'd grown up but I knew it was because of a rich tingly feeling over my skin. A feeling that told me some thing was happening tonight, something big.

A small smile played at my lips as I walked, passing the clubs in aim of a popular hang out from years before. Why? I had discovered after buying a hotel room in a seedy joint and meditating on it for the remainder of the daylight hours that that was where my memory ended. Pandemonium.

The line of misfits out the door was on the medium size, though they seemed to be all radiating a kind of energy as they watched some one attempt to smooth talk their way in. I stuttered in my stride, an intense feeling of dejavu circling my abdomen.

I stared at the eccentric teen with the piercings and bright dress. As I watched my vision seemed to blur until the figure morphed into some thing gruesome and grotesque. Gasping, I stumbled back into some one hard.

"Watch where you're going!" they growled, arms pushing me aside.

I stumbled, muttering an apology while giving the trio a dirty look as they walked past me and into the line. I felt almost nauseous when one of them turned to me and their eyes widened perceptibly.

"Hey, whoa!" The male began, his tawny eyes raking me up and down unsurely, "Are you Clarissa Morgenstern?"

I blinked, unsure of what to do. Unsurely, I took a step forward until I was beside their group in line and tilted my head in to lower my voice. I now had all their attention, they male eyes boring into mine.

"Um... yes, why?" I asked, my voice wavering slightly at the end. I didn't recognize the last name but I felt it was important to say that I was, at least to see what happened. It couldn't be a coincidence that it was the right first name.

The male took a step backwards, his eyes going wide while his buddies did the same.

"I'm so sorry for running into you, Miss Morgenstern," the boy said, his eyes wide.

"It's fine, my fault," I answered, my voice laced with confusion. I furrowed my eye brows and looked at the group who were falling over themselves to apologize to me.

"If you don't mind me saying, why haven't we seen you around like any of your buddies? I mean the group are always knocking on the door of Freaky Pete's or some thing looking for Luke about your brother or whatever, why are you never there? I don't know the details but shouldn't you have been at some of the parties or whatnot?" The boldest of the group stated, crossing his arms uneasily over his chest.

"Um... I've been busy with other things," I attempted, noticing when they exchanged glances.

"Oh, I get it, special 'clave business'," The third grumbled, backing up his buddy.

"Yeah, that's it!" I shot back, grasping at anything to make me seem at least a little bit like this Morgenstern person they thought I was. I gulped when their expressions darkened at my words, maybe it was the wrong thing to say.

"I thought you'd be different, you know after the whole Alliance thing and raised my mundanes, but turns out you're filthy snobs like the rest of them nephilim," one snapped, his lip curling back to reveal almost canine teeth.

I took a step back, not understanding half of what he was talking about and wishing I hadn't attempted to try my hand at sleuthing.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," I tried, flinching when their expressions didn't soften.

"Honestly," I attempted again, "I didn't mean it like that, I'm just a little lost and confused about some things going on."

At my admission, the look on their faces softened, though they still seemed harder then at first.

"Could you just do me a favor? It would really help me out. If you see my group of people could you tell them that I'm looking for them?" I asked, trying to be vague on the details so they wouldn't catch onto me having no idea what they were talking about.

"Yeah, I guess..." The first murmured, shaking out his hair and looking me up and down.

"Thanks," I mumbled, hurrying to get away from their accusing stares. I felt that if I stayed there any longer then they'd choose to not let me leave so readily after the weird looks they were giving me now.

Not paying attention to where I was going, I found myself turning into a dark alleyway. How typical, I scoffed, continuing my trek and hoping it let out at the other side. It didn't.

I was sure of three things right now.

Some one was following me. Well, I couldn't really be sure considering I was just basing this theory off of a tingle at the back of my neck at the darting of shadows whenever I turned around.

I had no idea where I was.

And... I was seriously regretting ever coming to New York at this moment.

I sighed and tried to ignore my aching feet. There hadn't been much need for walking in California with the ready amounts of rides from at least one of my friends or bus or taxi so my feet had gone unused for quite a bit.

Pulling back on my misery for a moment when I heard some thing behind me, I whirled around, feeling like an idiot all the same. Like the last few times of doing this, nothing was there. I backed up a few steps, making sure though I was almost positive nothing was going to happen. It was just paranoia, I rationalized.

Rationalizing sucks.

He slammed into me faster than I could blink. Well, _It _slammed into me faster than I could blink. I was forced up against a wall but some thing larger than my small shape that smelled truly awful. I heaved against it's talons, opening my eyes after realizing they were closed.

I felt like I could pass out right there and then. It was some thing that could only be describe as right from hell. It had three sets of eyes that seemed to drip with goo and a tongue that seemed to continuously slither between it's lips. I gasped as I looked beside it to see the other one behind it.

"Hello, princess..."

I gaped at the one holding me that had spoken, it's voice piercing my ears until they rung.

"W- What do you want?" I asked, feeling too vulnerable in my position.

"We want to please master, master will be oh so happy!" The second crowed, seeming to jump up and in glee.

"Who-" I attempted, only to be met with a swift slap in the face.

"Princess, will come quietly, master says, or we have permission to satisfy ourselves," The one holding me insisted, it's voice high and reedy.

"Get off me! Help!" I screamed, when a slithering hand cut into my arm.

"Bad idea, princess," the _thing _screamed, it's claws raking across my abdomen.

A burst of pain broke through me as I let out a high pitch scream, the claw marks seemed to be sizzling into my skin like they were on fire.

"We said to be quiet!" One of them hissed, indistinguishable in my pain.

One moment his hand was raised in another blow and the next I was falling to the ground as a form hit the creature square in the side with inhuman speed. I clutched at my stomach, looking up at the creatures and the other form wordlessly.

I gaped at what I saw. There was only one monster left and the other was backed up against the ground as a man loomed over it, his hood drawn and a... glowing blade clutched against it's throat.

I scrambled up against the wall as the man hunched over the creature, the muscles in his back billowing as he jerked it up by it's skin to meet the edge of his knife. I struggled to hear his words through the feel of the pain on my skin.

"Who sent you?" the man growled, his voice cold and hard.

I shivered at the voice, slightly familiar to me. I felt the edge of a memory begin to take place but not forming around this morbid vision.

"Who sent you!" the man repeated, screaming into his face and slicing away part of the creatures throat.

"M-master," the demon stuttered reluctantly, driven by pain and desperation to live. Demon, where had that word come from?

I looked at the only piece of the man visible to me to distract myself from the pain of my wound. His hand. Long pianists fingers edged along the blade in a bone tight grip.

I blinked as I realized that the memory I had of the voice was the bursts of it I had gotten in California. Yet, this empty version wasn't the one I remembered, no, this was much worse.

"Who's your master, demon, tell me," he hissed, his knuckles turning white in anger.

"Never!" the demon spat.

I whimpered in terror as the blade pierced through the demons throat and it screamed as it crumpled in on itself.

The man rose from the being, black cloak billowing like some sort of avenging angel. When I felt the hotness of his gaze on me though his eyes were shrouded in darkness, I found my trembling increase, fear coursing through me along with something else.

He walked over to me, boots clonking on the ground heavily. I looked a mess probably in my torn and bloodstained dress and tangled hair. Stupid, I thought, you're laying on the ground bleeding, while a hooded figure who just killed something if walking towards you.

The man froze when he got close enough to me, his breathing suddenly labored. I looked up at him with no fear, some thing in me knowing that he meant no harm.

Neither of us spoke, just him looking into my eyes and me looking into the darkness of his hood.

"Show me," I said, my voice clear and unwavering.

I didn't think he would do it. A part of me didn't want him to do it. But he did. He reached up and lowered his cloak down behind him. I felt my world stopped. There, glaring at me was the man in the photo. Jace.

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**DUN, DUN, DUN, DUN! D I know I'm evil. Let's just say that Lily called me out on it when I told her that I was ending it in another cliffhanger. I know it's short but I promise the next chapter will be longer or at least better. I'm not entirely happy with this but this is after restarting once so you guys should be remotely happy. Please review, they make my life!**

Charlotte. 


	9. His Loss

**Hey everyone! I'm sorry this took too long but it was really hard for me to write and the beginning took me about five tries to even be remotely satisfied. But it's done and it's here and it's relatively long so that's good. I also have the next part planned out in my head, or at least the beginning so since summer will be here soon, hopefully I'll have it up soon. :)**

**I'm sorry if the characters seem out of character but they're in character, just different then the books because it's different circumstances? Still, I'd love to hear your input on how I could make it more realistic. Even if I'm pretty set on their reactions. Sorry if it's not what you wanted, ha-ha, but you guessed it... I wouldn't let them skip off into the sunset. **

**DISCLAIMER : I don't own anything. Thank you!**

**Oh yeah, this chapter is dedicated (again) to Lily. For sitting at my computer while I typed and talking about how I couldn't make Magnus kill everyone and run off. For making me word war so I'd start writing - among other things, of course - and for hiding in my room with me all day. Thanks chikita. ;D**

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"What are you doing here?" the man muttered, standing over me with his hood down. I gasped against the pain in my abdomen, staring into hard eyes the color of melted gold. Yet, they weren't the eyes I remembered, they were changed. Instead of the warmth and love I had once seen in them I saw hardness and hate.

"I- I don't know," I replied, cursing the waver in my voice but never loosing eye contact with him.

"Get out of here," he whispered, his voice molten and harsh.

"But-" I began, scared by the prospect of leaving him... leaving the man I knew was some how connected to my past.

"Get out of here!" he repeated in a yell, leaning down and yanking me up savagely, his face now mere inches from mine.

I gasped out in horror, tucking my head down into my chest to avoid the hatred I could see reflected in his eyes. His grip on my arm was beginning to burn and the ragged expression on his face stung me. Fear pooled, showing in my own eyes as I whimpered in pain.

Slowly, as if it pained him, the man released his grip of me, letting me fall back down to his feet, eyes wet with tears. He turned away from me, breathing heavily with his hands knotted in his hair. I gave him as much space as I could, looking down instead at the blood that pooled around my stomach, leaking slowly out. The darkness stained my fancy dress mercilessly.

Suddenly, some thing long and silver dropped down into my lap. It was slightly warm with a vibe around it. I looked up to the man's penetrating glare though it had softened. His mouth quivered like he was trying to say some thing but couldn't. I waited for him to tell me what to do, what this was but he just stared at me.

"Mark yourself, won't you?" he finally growled, running a hand through his hair and turning away.

I blinked, picking up the cool glass of the structure. It was like an awkwardly long pencil but too short to be a blade. I clutched it in my fingers but could not figure out what to do with it. I felt some thing pushing at my mind but nothing would come through.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what you mean..." I stuttered, looking back up into his eyes.

"Mark yourself, Clary," he yelled, "You got yourself hurt so draw an iratze!"

I looked at him blankly, confused by his anger towards me and wanting so much for that voice to soften to the velvety smoothness I dreamed about.

"I don't know how," I said simply.

"What-" he began, reaching towards me. I flinched away from him and he seemed shocked.

"W- Who are you?" I stuttered, cowering against the wall from his fisted hands.

He stared at me, his eyes burning out until there was just hurt inside of him. His lips fell from their sneer and turned limp and his hands fell back to his sides as he stared at me.

"You- I- Clary?" he asked, his voice no longer holding the coldness of before, only the pain.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, aware of the hot tears on my cheeks, "I keep trying to remember you and every thing but I can't, I can't,"

I knew how much of a mess I must have looked there. Sitting against the wall on the dirty ground in a ripped and torn dress with blood coating my stomach and my hair a rat's ness. I wiped the back of my hand across my face, trying to rid the mascara streaks and snot that was there.

I was getting uncomfortable of the stare the boy was giving me. I knew he was Jace, that much I could get but nothing came to me except this fierce pulling at my heart when I looked at him.

As he looked at me, a thousand thoughts seemed to be going through his head though his eyes remained bleakly emotionless. I reached out a shaking hand to touch the one by his side, looking up through my lashes to his face. I didn't know why I did it considering seconds ago he had been the one causing me pain but I wanted to comfort this man.

Slowly, he fell onto his knees beside me, picking up the thing in my lap with steady hands and pulling out my wrist. I noticed he had to take a deep breath when he realized I was shaking before he could press the cool thing to my wrist. It stung but I just bit my lip and let him do what he was doing. I was helpless to him anyways.

When he stood back up the pain in my stomach was receding gradually and I felt my breaths turn back to normal, the gradual nausea leaving me. I didn't understand why the pain in my heart was still there though.

I was in a cab with him, with the man who had 'saved me'. His jacket was around my shoulders and my hair had been threaded loosely by me into one messy braid. We hadn't spoken to each other spare him telling me to follow him. I probably should have turned away but I new he held answers and I couldn't deny him this.

There was also this pull towards his cold face that I couldn't ignore, some thing that yanked at me from inside though on the outside I remained blank. Though I tried my best to keep up the facade, I couldn't stop looking at him. I doubt I had removed my eyes from his face once during the ride, spare when he caught me looking.

I felt the bumps and grooves in the seat with my fingers the fifth time his eyes met mine and his mouth opened wordlessly and closed just as silent. Looking down at my pale hands, I clutched my dress in them, inspecting the bitten and broken cuticles as if they were the greatest treasure on earth.

"What's my name?"

I found myself glancing up sharply to see him looking at me with that same infuriatingly blank expression. There would be no indication he had spoken and I hadn't imagined it if he didn't look so.. expectant.

"Jace," I mumbled, "I know that much,"

This time though, when his eyes met mine I kept my own steady, looking into the amber depths wordlessly. It was he who broke away, staring at the faded brown leather of the driver's seat as if he regretted asking the question. I mimicked his actions with the window, the scenery outside blurring into one blur.

"What's my last name?" he asked.

I felt myself bubbling with a sarcastic answer to him but it died upon reaching my lips. Firstly, this wasn't the time for snippy comments. Secondly, I honestly had no idea.

"I don't know," I murmured, hating the way my voice shook quietly.

He sighed emotionlessly and leaned back in the seat, pressing his lips together pointedly. Kay. I get it. Silence.

"I'm sorry, you know, I didn't mean to... do whatever I did," I said, my voice trailing off when I realized how stupid I sounded.

He just looked at me, his expression puzzled slightly, his head cocked to the side and his rich eye brows furrowed. I shrugged again to this expression and continued my observation of the window. I could have sworn I heard him mutter some thing under his breath. Some thing that sounded suspiciously like, "I don't forgive you."

When we pulled up to a what looked suspiciously like a run down abandoned building and he stopped the driver, I couldn't help but swallow nervously. It wasn't that I thought he would do anything, no, his total aversion to me in the car proved that one wrong. It was just the feeling of some thing in the air that put me on edge.

I slid out of the seat as instructed and closed the door carefully. When I looked up from thanking the driver he was staring at me, a peculiar expression on his face. I averted my gaze, shaking my head in a nod when the driver asked if I was alright.

When he repeated his question, I found Jace suddenly at my side, leaning into the open window.

"She's fine, you did your job now get the hell out of here," he growled, one hand hovering above my arm to keep me behind him and the other gripping the window ledge sardonically.

"Kay man, don't pull some thing," he muttered, rolling his eyes, "_Protective boyfriend, figures,"_

Jace shook his head angrily, tossing a few bills at the man and straightening up as he sped away. I stood shyly beside him, expecting the silent treatment I had been getting and nothing less. So naturally, I was surprised when I felt an iron grip clap onto my arm and my legs being dragged towards the dump.

"Why are we going over here?" I questioned, working to keep the fear out of my voice.

"What's with mundie's and asking too many questions?" Jace muttered under his breath. I felt the now familiar pull at the back of my mind but put off the weird expression until every thing **else **got less weird.

"I just want to know what business we have in this dump," I spoke again, voice stronger though on the inside I was trembling as I yanked my arm out of his grasp.

He whirled around anger in his eyes quickly turning to confusion, and then pain before it went back to that blank stare I was getting used to.

"You mean, you can't see it?" he asked, motioning with one hand towards the invisible 'it' he was referring to.

"No, should I be able to?" I said, voice quiet again as I considered what he was saying.

"Yes, you should," he murmured, looking down at the ground, "Look at the dump and imagine you're wiping that image away, focus on some thing behind it,"

All of his words were spoken in a monotone voice, as if he was repeating some thing he once spoke many times. I did as he told me, getting frustrated when nothing happened. I furrowed my eyebrows and tried again, unaware of my hands unconsciously turning to fists at my side.

I was brought back by his smirk, serving to add to my growing agitation.

"What?" I seethed, crossing my arms in front of me, "Why are you laughing at me?"

He just shook his head humorlessly, all laughter gone from his face.

"Try again,"

And I did, doing just as he told me until I gasped, the image in front of me impossible. What was even more impossible, it looked familiar.

"You see it now?" he whispered, his voice sad.

I nodded wordlessly, letting him once again take my arm and guide me up the steps. He placed a hand on the door and opened his mouth to speak but it opened before he could say anything. He glanced at me once, pulling his hand away from my arm like it burned and walking inside ahead of me.

The whole place was oddly familiar, resembling scenes I'd seen in my dreams. I found myself lagging behind still though, my mouth open in awe as I took in the sights.

"Come _on," _He insisted, throwing it over his shoulders with his lip curled back in distaste. I complied, feeling the wrongness of his harsh attitude with me, expecting some thing different.

He jabbed a button with his finger, the elevator doors rattling and opening for him and I. I didn't fail to notice he stood as far away from me as possible, hands white from gripping the handle of some unseen blade on his belt.

I closed my eyes for a moment, aware of the tension in the small compact room.

It was only when the elevator doors rattled open and a voice shrieked through the room that my breath caught in my throat and he looked at me, eyes hard.

"Jonathan Christopher Lightwood! If you run off again like that then mom and dad are going to personally rip your intestines to-" the feminine voice shrieked, voice reaching an unnaturally high voltage.

She gasped when she saw my presence on the elevator also, eyes taken aback as she took in our separation before she growled - that's right, growled - under her breath and almost burned me with her eyes.

"What are _you _doing here?" she hissed, eyes narrowed at me. I didn't miss the concerned look she shot Jace before her eyes were back on me.

"I-" I began, soon to be cut off.

"Save it, Isabelle, she doesn't remember," he said shortly, stepping out of the cabin delicately.

Assuming I should follow, I stepped out also, not happy to be closer to Isabelle.

"What do you mean she doesn't remember?" she asked, incredulously, "she doesn't remember being a total scalding devil of a bit-"

"Izzy!" Jace shouted, eyes fierce.

I flinched at the noise, crossing my arms in front of me, noticing for the first time I was shivering slightly though my cheeks were flushed.

"I said," Jace responded, "She remembers nothing, not of the shadow world, not of us, **nothing,**"

"Then that could be...?" Isabelle whispered, almost too low for me to hear.

"No," he replied to her unasked question, "Attacked on the street by demons, by the way,"

I shifted uncomfortably as her eyes rested on me, anger in them drained to be replaced by hurt.

"Why'd you leave?" she barked, counter acting her drained features, "Why'd you break this family apart?"

I blinked, feeling tears sting my eyes for the first time in this whole ordeal.

"I don't know,"

"Why'd you break my brother's heart? Why'd you just up and go?" She reiterated, voice rising as she drew closer.

"I don't know,"

"Why did you act so selfishly? Why did you only think of yourself, like always? Why, clary?" She was now gripping my arms and shaking me.

"I don't know!" I yelled, shoving her away from me hastily.

"I don't know," I repeated, looking down at my shoes, "I didn't mean to, I just... I don't know what's going on, I just..."

I found myself sobbing alone, staring at my shoes and feeling the length between me and my companions even more. I was once again met by silence and anger. I couldn't stop though, no matter how embarrassing it way. No matter the hurt I felt when Jace's hand flinched as if to comfort me but fell back to his side, no matter the hurt I felt when I realized that these people that I had risked every one for even though I didn't know them would risk nothing for me, who they remembered.

The tears just kept falling, no matter when I moved my hands to cover my face or mumbled apologies. They wouldn't stop and I felt as if this was for the voices in my head, for everything I'd heard. For everything period.

I was saved from the lengthy shock of the other two by a third voice and harsh footsteps. This was no matter though, this voice was also filled with anger.

"What is she doing here?" a male's voice hissed, "What's going on?"

"Oh come on now, we can be more original in that in our questions," Jace's voice muttered sarcastically.

I heard a sharp intake of breath before I was crushed up against a broad and sparkly chest, hands on my back and a shadow towering over me.

"What are you doing, warlock?" Isabelle hissed, his voice filled with anger.

"Ugh, do us all a favor and shut up for a few seconds Isabelle," Magnus said.

I didn't have time to feel surprise by the recognition of his name before I was steered off the side of the group, arms pulling my hands away from my face by my wrists and cat like eyes staring into my own with concern.

"Are you alright, Clary?" he asked, his voice soft, like a purr.

I nodded, hiccuping slightly.

"I know you don't remember me but every thing will be explained in a moment, kay, nutmeg?" he asked, shaking me slightly.

I nodded again, wiping away my tears with the heels of my hands, embarrassed suddenly. Magnus looked at me for a few moments before turning back around to the group, not trying to hide my blubbering mess of a face.

"I think we have some thing to talk about, how about over some coffee and crumpets," he said, smiling devilishly at the unease on everyone's faces.

It felt weird, being in a room I knew I had walked in before but didn't remember. I looked around, searching for some thing... like a key to unlock the box that held all my memories. Magnus was talking, explaining to them some thing I couldn't understand even if I tried. I sat behind him, my legs pulled up to my chest and occasionally a shiver went through my spine.

I found myself daydreaming wordlessly as I stared at the back of Magnus' head. It was only when I heard my name followed by a breathy chuckle and some muttering that I paid attention.

"Dear, you're not helping your case. Can you tell us about where you were before this?" Magnus said, rolling his eyes at my wide eyes.

"Um..." I croaked, clearing my throat when my voice came out crackly.

"I lived in California since two summers ago. I had a bunch of friends and my mom own sold a bunch of art to people there, I guess," I attempted lamely, shrugging my shoulders.

"Then why'd you come here?" Isabelle hissed, eyes only slightly softer than before.

I looked at Magnus for reassurance that I could speak, feeling suddenly shy at this raven haired hard girl. He rolled his eyes again and I found myself annoyed at the way he tapped on the table with his sparkly nails as if I was taking too long.

"Well... I started hearing things and sort of remembering? Just tidbits but I was really freaked out cause it would be like... your voices or stuff. Then I drew things subconsciously like scenes and stuff. Then I found some pictures of us and I just, I hated it, not knowing who I was. So, I came here and these people recognized me in line for some club and they got really angry and,"

I sighed, repeating my shrug from before and looking away from their eyes. I was aware I had been rambling and I thought that if I continued then I might get out of hand. I fidgeted with my hands, unsure of myself in the silence.

"What do you mean, hearing things?" Alec asked, his tone only the slightest bit hostile.

"Umm... I don't know. One of my friends would say some thing and I would hear you guys say some thing similar and so on," I answered.

This was when I remembered my friends. How were they feeling now? How long had it even been since I had gone? The weird thing though was... I didn't regret leaving them. Yet, I felt myself saddened by the way I had acted there, by the pain I caused the people here by just existing in my life in California. I tried not to let it show, I smiled slightly and looked just past them. This probably would have worked with my old friends, always blind to my pain but with the people in front of me? They just glanced at each other skeptically before looking back.

"What do you know about this, Magnus?" Isabelle asked, speaking for the group. I was surprised Jace wasn't so vocal considering he had found me and he had been in those pictures yet he just looked coldly away from us all, towards the wall of the kitchen area. I blinked sadly, turning my gaze to Magnus as he spoke.

"I know about this because I was asked to take her memories away by her mother," he said, smiling humorlessly as all of our eyes met his.

"Tell me you didn't," Alec said, glancing warily at his half brother as his jaw clenched.

"I didn't," Magnus smirked, "Ye of little faith, darling, I refused to and told Jocelyn off for even thinking that. I even told Clary dear what was happening and we worked to avoid any compromising situations. But you don't remember that, right nutmeg?"

I shook my head.

"Therefore, she must have found some one else to do it and tricked Clary because when I told her - before this happened that is - she was so angry she almost wrecked the new silk pillows I bought from a fairy in japan, and those **were **expensive," he said, ending with a pointed look at me.

I shivered. It was weird learning about a life I could not remember at all. Learning these things that I had done, people I had left and hurt. It only took me a moment to remember.

"Wait... fairy's are real?" I blurted, eyes wide, "And how did **you **erase my memory? Not you, but that other person,"

Magnus laughed outright, ignoring the outraged looks he got for his nonchalance, and looped an arm around the back of my chair.

"Clary, clary, clary... there's a whole world you don't know about," he spoke, eyes teasing, "You didn't know for that long before either, how life is unfair. But for now, I think it's time we all turn in. Everyone needs beauty sleep, though it doesn't work on some people."

Magnus stood up, jostling me a bit as he did so when his long sleeve hit me on the head. I rubbed through my hair gently, scowling slightly when he just smirked at me.

"We're not done talking yet," Isabelle said, standing up in a sort of panicked gesture.

"Oh, go ahead and talk away, I'm just going to bed," Magnus trilled, bowing comically before turning to leave.

"Bloody warlock," I heard Jace mutter under his breath, though his eyes stayed trained on a spot on the wall.

Feeling betrayed by my only ally, I focused again on the spot past the group and at the wall. I couldn't ignore the stares they held on me even if I tried.

"So you don't remember us, like, at all?" Isabelle asked, leaning towards me.

I flinched at the sudden proximity but shook my head only, wishing I could heed Magnus' advice and just go to bed.

"I'm sorry for how I acted before then," she sniffed, saying it like it was a prize to be taken that she even say it at all, "I just... everyone was hurt by you leaving," Finally I felt some thing stir inside of me and pushed myself away form the table slightly, voice hard when I spoke.

"It's apparent that I didn't leave, Isabelle, so I'd like it if you'd stop speaking like I ruined everyone's lives on purpose," I hissed, feeling that determination I had felt before coming here, before the past had begun to be revealed.

"You did though Clary," she continued when I glanced up at her, furious, "Before any of this happened you were causing turmoil and heartbreak. You should never have even come into our lives, it would have made things so much easier,"

Hurt, I was opening my mouth to snap back a reply when a voice interrupted, aimed at Isabelle.

"That's enough, Isabelle," Jace said, voice final.

The room was filled with a hard silence that was hard to ignore, everyone looking around edgily at one another.

I was surprised by the outburst but oddly touched at the way he stood up for me, distancing himself from his siblings slightly. He stood up, his chair screeching unpleasantly though he seemed as graceful as anything.

"I'll take you to your room," he mumbled, motioning for me to follow.

I stood up clumsily, blushing at the tension in the room as I followed him. I could feel their eyes on my back until I turned the corner. I tried to keep up with his big steps, feeling frustrated when he only sped up his walking. Yet, I didn't feel alone here, not at all.

We went down several corridors, stopping at a closed door.

"This is it," he murmured, turning to go.

I was just turning the knob when he looked back, stopping with a visible pain in his eyes.

"Just don't... touch anything, okay?" he said, his voice almost too quiet for me to hear as he walked away.

I pushed open the door and walked in, closing it behind me. I was immediately assaulted by pictures and belongings. Belongings of me.

* * *

**That's all! Hope you enjoyed and please, please, please review! PLEASE! They make me so happy inside I could burst. Seriously. Just ask Lily. I tend to jump up and down and scream when I get a new one. ;) Thanks!  
**

**Oh yes, and check out Lily's story. It's A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. It's called 'Bring Back The Night' by 'Kay-Riss' :)**

Charlotte. 


	10. His Whispers

**His Whispers – Chapter 10 – Return To Me**

The room wasn't orderly, far from it, but it had a sense of organization that was hidden to me. Tacked on the walls were half-finished sketches, photos of smiling faces and little notes. There were blank canvas' stacked against the wall as well as notebooks opened to varying pictures of my friends.

I sat down on the bed carefully, my mind whirling. I felt like I was in a stranger's room, not one that had once belonged to me. For there was no denying it, the drawings were mine, the _smell _was even mine.

I picked slowly at the pale yellow sheets, noticing smudges from charcoal pencils and the like, half faded from times long ago. They'd been pulled perfect and tight over the bed, not a corner not tucked, not a wrinkle. I felt alien as I sat upon them, as if I was ruining years of precision. I had a feeling they hadn't been disturbed in a long time.

I don't know how long I sat there, carefully kneading the fabric with shaking fingers, trying to digest all this information. If I were being honest with myself, I would admit that I wasn't all that surprised about this unknown world. Even as I said it aloud to myself, I couldn't feel shocked.

"Fairies," I whispered, "Werewolves, Vampires… Shadowhunters,"

I must have eventually fallen asleep because the next thing I knew I was in the middle of a raging dream, unable to wake up from it.

I couldn't tell you what it was that I dreamed about last night, some thing gruesome, horrible, I could guess. All I knew was that when I woke up, I was shaking, eyes finding immediately the glowing numbers on the clock beside the bed.

* * *

3:44, I'd noted.

I hadn't gone back to bed afterwards. There really had been no point in trying; I knew that my eyes would refuse to close. So even as I stood in the kitchen for the third hour in a row, I was still wide-awake. Gripping the plain white coffee mug in my hands, I took a hesitant sip, the now lukewarm liquid sliding unpleasantly down my throat.

I leaned against the counter, eyeing suspicious blots of dry food that littered the smooth steel surface. The whole room was modern and sleek, steel everywhere, a skylight. I sloshed the coffee around in my cup, listening to the swish of it.

6:07.

6:51.

7:19.

The minutes ticked by, and I just kept refilling my coffee and drinking it, waiting so long between sips that by the end it was freezing. I started a game with myself, trying to remember what were real or not, my memories.

Magnus was real, I knew. I also knew he was the voice on the phone with my mother. A warlock. I knew that he was very bright, and I remembered a sort of fluorescent light that came from him.

Fairies were real. They sold Magnus though pillows that I had… almost wrecked. My hand subconsciously dragged along the skin of my arm, around a translucent white scar that I just noticed.

It was like the other's… the scar. Curving into swift designs, resembling that in my notebook. I set down my mug and resumed my tracing of the lighter skin, in a curlicue of swirls and straight lines. I stopped at the end of it, where it tapered off into a small point. It had some thing to do with fairies, I attempted, narrowing my eyes as if searching the air for my answer. Nothing popped up though, both in my mind and in the air. I was left with just as much as before, the echoes of soft music in my ears.

It was then that he found me, the boy so startled he nearly dropped the stele he was flipping in his hands.

Alec.

"Oh, Clary. What are you doing up?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot in the doorway.

I guessed it must be awkward, trying to decide if he was still mad at me or not. I wondered if they'd talked about me, the siblings, after Jace had escorted me to my room. Probably. Yet… I couldn't picture them gossiping about some thing that obviously cost their foster brother so much pain.

"Couldn't sleep," I said after a long pause, blushing as I realized he had been waiting for me to sleep.

"Oh," Alec deadpanned, looking away from my eyes.

We both avoided each other's gaze, me scratching my arm and he shifting his weight every few seconds.

Finally, the silence got too much, "Coffee?"

He glanced up at my offer, before his face turned into a small smile. I was so surprised by the change of mood that I banged my wrist into the counter as I turned to prepare it. As I brought it back to my body I could see Alec shaking. I glanced at him warily, afraid to know how I'd upset him this time. I was even more shocked to see that he was quietly laughing, moving towards me.

"Coffee's good, if you haven't drunken it all, still addicted?" he asked, mumbling slightly.

I nodded mutely, moving away so he could prepare his own as I assumed he wanted to do. Instead though, he turned and sat down at the table, watching me as I watched him.

"Oh!"

I turned to begin to make the coffee, having, as he'd said, drained the last pot. It didn't take long, me avoiding his eyes as I watched it fall into the pot. The second there was enough for one cup, I brought it out, pouring it into a fresh mug. It was then that I stopped, hands freezing over the pile of sugar's and creams.

"What- What do you take in it?" I asked quietly, certain that I was supposed to know.

I was, I knew, as Alec looked away, mouth pursed into a thin line. He didn't respond until seconds later, his voice quiet.

"Just… black, is fine,"

I slid the drink over to him, looking at the wood of the table rather than his deep blue eyes. Part of me guessed that he didn't usually take it back but decided to spare me the embarrassment of having to wait for instructions. The moment it met his hands, he took a grateful swig, though it must have been scalding.

I set the pot back in and sat down across from him, fingering my half empty cup gingerly.

"Did you… sleep well?" he attempted.

I blinked, deciding not to cal him out on the lame attempt at conversation. It was obvious by the bags under my eyes and the tired slump of my small shoulders that I hadn't.

"Fine, I guess, you?"

"Fine,"

"Oh, that's good,"

He took another swig of his cup just as the clock chimed 8:00 o'clock. That long?

"Alec, " I started, fidgeting nervously with my cup, "Are you… gay?"

He sputtered, choking on his coffee. I winced, waiting for his response as he composed himself. By the time he settled down, I was back to not looking at him.

"Umm… yeah, I am. I'm with Magnus. He's my boyfriend. We're together," he rambled, looking away.

"When did you two meet?" I said, trying to be polite.

Alec only looked away, expression pained.

It was then that Isabelle walked in, though I wasn't sure if this was a savior or an obstacle judging by the peeved look on her face. She didn't falter like Alec did when he saw me, giving me a quick look before ignoring my presence.

"Morning Alec," she murmured, deliberately not saying my name. I took another sip of my coffee.

"Morning," he grumbled, obviously still upset from our conversation.

Isabelle joined the table, as far from me as she could get. Her hair looked expertly tousled and her make up perfect. I felt like a train wreck beside her.

"Have you checked the mail? It comes early some days," Izzy asked Alec, making a point to set her back to me.

I glowered; glad she couldn't see the barely suppressed glare I shot her. Why couldn't she try to be nice, like her brother?

"Some days that aren't Sunday, Isabelle," Jace sauntered in, looking somber in his black clothing.

I couldn't help but stare at him, as I'd been too tired to do last night. As he sat down beside Alec, my hand itched to set on top of his own. He nodded towards me, earning a scowl from Isabelle. I hid my own smile in another sip of coffee; certain he wouldn't like my appreciation.

"I forgot, okay? No need to be a douche about it," Isabelle grumbled.

"Through rain, snow or sleet…" I murmured automatically, not putting two and two together as Jace's head shot up to look at me.

Isabelle didn't notice the sudden change, continuing to complain about the rudeness of her foster brother, but Alec was immediately aware. He looked at Jace then I, and for once, I didn't hide my face. Just met their looks with calm gazes of my own.

Upon meeting his eyes to my own, Jace froze, studying some thing just under my gaze. I had to look away at the unreadable expression he wore.

"Did you… sleep well?" Jace finally murmured, interrupting Izzy mid thought.

Oh, he was looking at the bags.

I just shrugged, looking into the drags of my coffee. I didn't miss the eyebrow raise I earned from the blonde haired man in front of me, I pretended to though.

"Magnus told me tonight that we should carry on life like it was before Clary…" Alec began, trailing off in search of the right word before snapping up again, "wasn't here. So maybe she'll remember!"

At the harsh looks he earned from both his siblings, he slumped in his chair, enthusiasm gone.

"And suddenly Magnus is the expert on all things memory? He took her memory away, why are we listening to him?" Isabelle snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

I opened my mouth to speak but was interrupted by Alec.

"He didn't take her memory away…"

Jace shot him a calculating look.

"The first time," he amended, shrugging, "He's the most knowledge we've got. And mom and dad won't get our message until later this week so who knows what could happen in the mean time,"

"Let's just do it, the worst that could happen is she goes brain dead or some thing," Jace said, "And what's the loss in that?"

Though I could sense the dry humor in his voice, I fumed. Why were they talking about me like I wasn't there?

"I'm right here you know," I snapped, "Don't you think I should get a decision in any of this?"

Isabelle met my eyes with a scary calm.

"No," she finally said, her tone ringing in finality.

I took a deep breath, studying the other's reactions. Alec was looking down at the table, his face baring open signs of superiority. Jace? He was just looking at me, his face drawn in concentration. He looked almost, desperate for some thing as he gazed at me, his eyes flitting to my own only once.

"Fine," I mumbled, pushing my chair away, "Whatever."

3 days went by. They were awkward. I mostly kept to myself, spending as much time in the greenhouse or library as I could. No one seemed to go in there that much, maybe it contained bad memories, I didn't know. It went like this.

Wake up early. Have breakfast before anyone else came in then go to the library. There, some one would come in later in the morning to make sure I was there, never speaking before leaving.

I assumed they were in the training rooms, as the few times I bumped into them in the hallways they were sweaty and disheveled.

It was a similar story for lunch. I some times ran into people there, though it was never the one person I wouldn't mind running into. Always a lofty Alec or a smug Izzy. I understood that this was a whole different situation then they were used to, but they could have some sympathy towards me! Maybe I just felt bad for myself, but I'd rather them ignore me. Some times I would catch their looks differently, pained, hopeful. The second I met their eyes, those looks were gone, replaced by a shield of indifference.

The worst was knowing I had hurt them, more than myself. At least, I didn't have anything to remember them by, remember how they previously acted. All I had were vague memories, voices of theirs. How come they'd always been so friendly, so welcoming there? They were just confused, I'd tell myself. I hoped.

Dinner was always order in. Alec and Izzy would talk, discussing some thing with too many names of things I didn't recognize to try and dissect. As I picked at my food, I could feel Jace's eyes on me. Occasionally he would add some thing, but he was mostly quiet. Every time I tried to catch his eyes though, they were looking anywhere but at me.

Alec and Isabelle didn't see anything wrong with his eerie silence. Like it was some thing perfectly acceptable. They didn't even try to include him, though they were friendly to him. Some times when he said some thing particularly horrible, Isabelle would go to snap back and then hold herself in. There'd be a moment of tense silence, as Jace sat still as anything, before some one would try and reconcile the conversation. Always, it was with furtive glances at Jace's reaction. Had he reacted badly before? I wondered. It wouldn't go past me. It didn't take me long to figure out that it was when I was mentioned, or some thing I must have been involved in that he made a comment and they'd stare at him. Like always, I was the source of the pain.

Some times I'd ask questions, but they almost always went without answers. I always made sure to stick clear of subjects that might bring upon me those pained looks and careful glances. Just about the world. They'd go silent then keep talking. By the third night I was desperate for answers but getting none. My questions morphed into persistency about what had happened, about who I was. No answers.

Usually, I'd excuse myself early.

I never touched the things in my room, only staring at them. Still though, I never seemed to get bored as I looked at thing. Pictures of us all were my favorite. The one of Jace and I standing in front of a grand Manor house was my favorite, his arm was looped around me, pulling me so close you almost couldn't tell where he ended and I began.

And strangely enough, the nightmares never came. It wasn't like most nights free of the terrifying images. I felt them coming on, started shaking… the beginnings happened, demon like images contorting. I'd start the shaking, I knew, the whimpers too probably. Then, they'd stop and I'd fall into a dreamless sleep.

It was on the fourth night that I figured out why.

* * *

Dinner was almost peculiar, we all sat around eating the Chinese. Them at one side of the table, me at the other like it seemed to be every night. I had given up my questions when Alec had snapped at me the other night, leaving me hurriedly eating the food so I could retreat to my room. I found myself listening to their conversation subconsciously.

"You're getting better at your new blade, Alec, almost as good as me," Isabelle teased, smirking at her older brother.

"It's a good blade, Izzy, but I still miss the Guisam that father let me use on the boat," Alec replied, sighing as he thought longingly of it.

"At least you had a good blade on the boat, all I had were a couple Seraph's," Jace muttered, rolling his eyes at his brother, "And you still managed to get yourself knocked off of it."

"That was hell though, most people got knocked off at least once," Alec sniffed, "That was a good day though, besides the deaths,"

"How was that a good day, Alec?" Isabelle exclaimed, shaking her head in exasperation.

"Jace killed Abannon for one, and he saved Simon and Clary," he pointed out, before freezing.

I expected their eyes on me, as they some times did when they said too much information, but they were on Jace instead. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before opening them and looking away. He looked like he was about to speak but changed his mind, closing his mouth.

Images coiled around me, causing me to gasp. I could no longer see those around me. I saw armies of grotesque beings gathered, slithering and calling in sickly chirps to me. I saw water logged around, felt pain in my head, but mostly I saw blood, blood everywhere.

When I finally found myself, I was the center of three stares.

"Excuse me… I have to go," I mumbled quickly, letting my chair screech backwards as I stood to leave. No one followed me. I didn't go to my room, instead heading to the library. I'd found a group of couches there on the first day, hidden by a stack of dusty encyclopedias.

It was there that I curled up into myself on one of the plush couches, eyes wide. I tried to stay awake as long as possible, knowing that the nightmares **would **come that night, no matter how hard I wished them away.

The nightmare was there, pulling me so far into it that I couldn't even know it was a nightmare. Blood, death, screams. Images of those gruesome creatures filled my vision, littering the air with a foul smell I couldn't imagine on my own.

It went far, not just to the beginning. I was afraid I'd never get out as I felt pain in my palms.

I was aroused from my terror by hands gripping my arms and yanking me upwards.

"Clary, wake up!" the voice commanded, shaking me a little.

I gasped, my eyes finally opening to meet gold. I didn't know I was shaking until my vision began to blur in both tears and motion. I gasped out breaths, relief flooding through me so fiercely that I felt weak.

Jace let go, his eyes panicked as I gripped my head in my hands.

I was sure I was imagining his hand on my back until he spoke, his tone as gentle as it had ever been.

"What was your dream about?" he murmured.

I looked at him, shocked to see the carefully constructed wall torn down to reveal such vulnerability that I had to look away.

"I- I don't know. There were creatures and blood… god, so much blood," I stuttered, closing my eyes against the images that threatened to spill over.

He was quiet for a while, not removing his hand from my shoulder where it sat, warm and comforting.

"Was it the same as yesterdays?" he finally asked, looking into my green eyes.

"What?" I demanded, pushing him away as I stared.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair morbidly. It was so long before he spoke again I was starting to think he wasn't going to.

"You were having these nightmares before you left," he told me, not bothering to sugarcoat the words like Alec had tried to, "you'd wake me up you were thrashing so much. That first day, when I saw how exhausted you were, I knew that you were having them again. So I did what I used to do. I calmed you down."

I stared at him, angry for no reason. I didn't know why exactly. Everything was just so screwed up! This boy beside me was in pain because of some thing I did! I didn't care that I didn't want to or that I had no recollection of this, I knew that I was killing him.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, wiping fresh tears from my cheeks.

"Why?" he asked, "It's not like you meant for it to happen."

When he saw my stupefied look he reluctantly continued, "I was angry at first. So angry I couldn't speak, I wouldn't speak. Then I was upset. Wouldn't come out of my room. Then destructive. I was an idiot,"

He laughed humorlessly, his eyes haunted.

"I would throw myself into battle so hard that I'd get myself hurt. There were numerous times when Magnus had to be called to get the demon poisoning out of my system, almost died a lot of times,"

I couldn't help my gasp. He didn't look at me though, staring at some thing I couldn't see.

"Why?" I asked him, the only word I could formulate.

"You don't remember but… you are… you were, the one person who could get through to me,"

I reached out a hand to him, though it stung that he used the past tense. Some thing in me burned at his pain, eating at my chest.

"Jace, I-" I began, my voice wavering.

"Save it," he said shortly, standing up so abruptly I fell backwards, "You should be good for tonight,"

I watched as he left, his back muscles tensed. Even when he was gone, I continued to stare at the door, the ghost of his presence lingering beside me.

I don't know when it happened but it did, some thing inside me snapped and I put my head in my hands and sobbed.

* * *

**Yeah, I skipped the author's note at the beginning because I'm far too lazy. This whole thing was written in the 8 hour drive to Chicago. I had to take some breaks because my computer's battery only lasts 6 hours at worst but it was pretty much keep going. It was hard, I have to admit, I'm going to die come Nanowrimo. :)**

**So yes, I don't own anything. Nothing at all.**

**And I'm sorry for the long break but some times it has to happen. The good thing is that ... I have another 8 hour drive on the way back. **

**This chapter was supposed to involve three more big events but it was already long enough. So the next chapter is totally planned out and so is the next. Yay! **

**Please review, I love them. :)**

**Charlotte.**

**P.S You can follow me on Twitter. I give periodic updates on RTM as well as writing in general it's just Char_Little. **


	11. His Shadows

**Sorry, it's been atrociously long since my last update though I know the next ones won't be so long. The reason I know this is because I had good reason to be late on this one. I did some thing called Nanowrimo that took up my October and November completely. Let's just say it involved writing a 50,000 word novel in a month. Yes. Time consuming. And September I was trying to focus on my studies so... You get the drift, I assume? But this chapter is here and I promise the next won't take as long as this chapter only took me a couple hours in total?**

**Again, I do not own the Mortal Instruments and never will though this idea and the added characters are mine and I'd prefer it if no one replicated them, thank you!**

**If you want to stay updated with RTM then you really should follow me on twitter as writing is all I post about. I'm char_little there so please do follow me! **

**Thanks and hope you enjoy! Of course, reviews do give me incentive to write but if you don't have time then I understand as it took me so long to write this. :)**

* * *

**Return To me – Chapter 11 – His Shadows**

"Tonight," Isabelle told everyone, "We go out tonight, we can't put it off anymore,"

She didn't look annoyed at this statement, eager instead. I knew it was because she was yearning to be back in battle as they had taken a temporary hiatus because of my return and they were all missing it. It was easy to see the relief in the others expressions when she came out with it at lunch that day, their agreeable nods and enthusiastic words going to planning.

I sat there, pulling at the hem of my plain green T-Shirt and trying to remember a time when I had gone out with them. Ever since that meeting with Jace in the library, that had been the only thing on my mind, remembering. Yet as unrecognizable images passed before me, I couldn't distinguish the real from my imagination and eventually I was forced to give it up and succumb to the head ache passed my way. I never gave up though, as it felt like they were on the cusp of my reach, just waiting for me to snatch them up.

The message had gotten to Misses and Mister Lightwood, who I had learned to be called Maryse and Robert, and they were trying to get home as soon as they could. No one was optimistic for a speedy trip back, as they were still needed wherever they were. Barely listening, I had just nodded as Alec edgily explained things to me.

Alec was now the only one who would talk to me, at least who would say more than a few words to me and even those words were hesitant on his part. Jace and Isabelle were eager to ignore me completely, eyes always averted from mine and refraining so much from speaking my name. Alec though, explained tersely what he felt I had to know and was polite. Some how, this endeared me and I found myself grateful towards his attempts at trying to make me feel at home.

As I took a bite of the left over food they had scavenged and listened to them plan, I became aware of a pair of golden eyes on me. Letting my own green ones meet theirs, I was disappointed by the same wall that had always been there. Yet, it was better to have them on me then him ignoring me as before, I attempted to tell myself, ignoring the angry thumping of my heart against my chest as I looked at him.

"Clary's coming,"

Everyone stopped what they were doing, including me. I stared at the man in front of me, shocked that he had spoken about me, let alone in favor of me.

"What?" Isabelle finally sputtered, dropping her spoon loudly into her bowl so that spilled sauce onto the table.

"She's coming," Jace repeated calmly, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest and expression blank.

"Jace," Alec began, in what sounded like a placating tone, "It's dangerous for her to come, she doesn't have any training,"

I nodded along with what Alec said, trying to avoid Isabelles glowering expression piercing the side of my face.

"She didn't have any before," Jace told us all calmly, "she's coming,"

Isabelle opened her mouth to retort, saw the look Alec was giving her, then threw her hands down on the table and stormed out of the room with a glare my way. I shuddered, pursing my lips together to resist the need to ask questions as to what we'd be doing. You could cut the tension in the room with a blade as the two remaining Shadow hunters stared at each other challengingly.

"Are you sure about this, Jace?" Alec asked, dipping his head to meet his brother's eyes.

"No, I just pissed off her highness into slicing me open the next chance she gets for fun," Jace responded, rolling his eyes.

Beneath his sarcastic response though there was finality to his words that had Alec nodding.

"Where am I going?" I finally blurted out.

They both ignored me, respectively beginning a new conversation as I had learned they would do any time I asked for information about my old life or what they were doing. It was almost like I hadn't spoken at all.  
Bristling, I stood and followed Isabelle's lead to leaving the room. Some how, some thing inside of me told me that this wouldn't be easy, whatever we were doing that night.

* * *

Simplicity was not the way of the shadow hunters, I soon learned, which was the opposite of what had been my life the past few years. In California, it was easy to forget about everything and live for the moment, to get up in the morning and decide to do whatever you wanted that day. If some one felt spontaneous ten we'd sneak out to lunch and miss the next period, if we felt cold then we'd build ourselves a bonfire, there was nothing worse than angry parents and failed tests to be afraid of.

Of course things here were different.

Here, it was your life on the line when you went out 'hunting' as they called it. As I walked towards them, dressed as Alec had told me to in the hunting clothes in my dresser and feeling more uncomfortable with each step, they looked at me as though I didn't belong. I couldn't help but feel that way myself.

Isabelle was the only one dressed to impress really, in a long black skirt and tight laced top, effectively hiding the swirling images that were similar to those I'd drawn weeks ago in my notebook. Her hair cascaded perfectly down her back in smooth waves and her slim milky hands were fastening a whip into her sleeve, a small fond smile on her face. The boys wore the normal black clothing I'd seen occasionally, nothing more or less.

Eyes hardening to slits, Isabelle watched as I walked up, and I couldn't help but let my expression match her own. I was beginning to get tired with her anger. After all, she was the one who wouldn't tell me anything, who acted like I was nothing but an annoying bug caught buzzing around her all day.

Flipping her hair over her shoulder pompously, she turned her slender back one me, the small clearing of her throat alerting the boys to my presence. They both only glanced up briefly, theirs expressions blank. I was once again just an outsider.

Yet this didn't feel all too unfamiliar to me, this walking towards them unsure of what was happening or where we were going. Too familiar to be just this week. I pushed the thoughts away into the recesses of my mind, focusing on surviving what sounded like a dangerous trp.

Alec was talking in low tones to the other two, their posture showing that I wasn't welcome to intrude. Yet, I could recognize by the tones of their melding voices that they were planning for the fight. Maybe it was the anticipation in the air or their disregard for anything else, I couldn't be sure.

The next thing I knew though, I was stepping into the elevator and on my way downwards, ignoring the hard looks they were sending me and trying not to send my own right back. I had a feeling that the night would be ending with a headache.

* * *

I couldn't stop the feeling of déjà vu that went through me as I sat at the bar seat, holding a glass of water in shaking hands and looking edgily over my shoulder to where Isabelle stood, eyes raking the crowd. We were waiting for a demon to come in, they'd allowed me to know, so that Isabelle could lure it in and then they could all kill it. When I asked where I fit into this, they said nothing, like my words were a whisper on the wind.

I bristled, clutching the small glass tightly and swishing around the pellets of ice. I was having enough with constantly being ignored or condescendingly sniffed at.

Sighing though, I bid my muscles to relax and my mouth to leave the comments I was dying to voice in my mouth. I had been doing much the same thing for the past couple days, trying not to explode at the trio as they glared at me or sent over their own biting comments. Those weren't what got me though, what really annoyed me was that they wouldn't tell me anything!

The thoughts only did the opposite of what I was trying to do, and I slid the glass down the counter and away from me, not wanting to go through on the urge to smash it on the next person who passes by. I had never been a violent person but the frustration and exasperation coursing through me could never be good.

I clenched my fists underneath the table, taking several deep breaths before I opened my eyes again. They opened right into a pair of fluorescent purple ones, too bright to be natural.

_Must be colored contacts, _I thought immediately, glad I hadn't jumped at the proximity.

"Hello," I murmured, pushing up into the bar to get at least two feet between the boy and me around my age. He had bright yellow hair the color of daisies and sharp cheekbones to chisel out the eerily pale skin.

"Hi! Mind if I join you?" The boy said, his voice dipping low and seductive on the last few words.

I shuddered, some thing being off about his looks. Glancing over his shoulder, I was disappointed to see that the others were no where to be found in the hectic club.

The boy, following my vision, smirked, "You here with any one? They must not have been very nice if they ditched you,"

I swallowed, suddenly feeling the brunt of his words. Had that been what had happened? No, they probably just found a demon, I reasoned with myself. I couldn't help the knot of apprehension from gathering in my stomach though.

The boy took a seat across from me, his outfit of leather straps and bright sequined shirts unnerving me as much as the sharp horn sticking out of his ear. He flicked it once, asking me if he liked his earring, I shrugged, suddenly wishing that the others were there. He was too friendly, I knew, so I might as well play along. After all, nothing could happen while we were at the bar surrounded by dancing bodies, could it?

"What's your name?" he asked me, seeming to breathe in my scent, looking mildly intoxicated. I tried to ignore the flash of red I thought I had seen in his eyes as he did this.

"Umm… Clary,"

"Pretty name, Clary, that is," he nodded, but it was dismissively, as though he wanted to get on to talking about other things. His fingers tapped on the table in a steady rhythm. His nails looked filed into points.

"I suppose," I muttered, shrugging my shoulders and trying to catch the eyes of the bartender to get another glass of water. Maybe if he figured out I was a minor then he would get bored and go away, I only hoped.

"Maybe we could go talk some where quieter? Where there's less people?" he yelled over the new loud song that had come on, the beat pumping into the speakers on the floor.

I whirled around to quickly dismiss the ridiculous thought but was caught by his now glowing purple eyes. I felt an odd feeling develop deep in the pits of my mind, some thing I couldn't be sure of as he continued to look into my eyes, a new sinister smile on his face instead of the sickly sweet one of previous. The only thought that would come to me was the most ludicrous possible. So ludicrous though, that I knew it to be true.

Was this man trying to hypnotize me?

I could feel the beginnings of stirring inside of my mind, just att he back of it. The boy was looking satisfied though as he pulled away and stood up, reaching out with a tense grip to grab my arm and pull me away. Was I supposed to be hypnotized at the moment? I decided to play along, let myself be towed towards the door to a storage closet in the club.

As we walked, as soon as he looked away from me, my eyes were scanning the crowd, sudden panic going through me. Relief flushed through my body when I found the familiar contours of the three of them… following another boy into the alleys of the club.

Sudden anger flowed though me, they hadn't once turned around to ensure I was still where they had positioned me. With a new courage, I fell limp to the man leading me and worked to daze my eyes, trying to appear the Hollywood version of hypnotized.

I couldn't help the pounding of my heart though, when he opened up the new door and pushed me inside, not very roughly but not too kindly either. Before I could fall though, I made sure to slip off the small silver bracelet that I had found in my room and hidden under the jacket I was wearing so that it landed peacefully on the floor, glinting in the strobe lights.

I turned around slowly to meet the mans eyes, glad when I didn't feel the odd sort of commotion in my mind as before, convincing me that he believed my ruse.

"Hello beautiful," he murmured, taking a few slow steps towards me. I continued my blank following of him, wondering if I should fix some other sort of emotion on my wane face. I didn't bother though, as a moment later his talons were on cupping my cheek, a ravenous look in his eyes.

Quite literally, they were talons. Scaled and sharp fingers gripped my cheek, drawing tiny pin pricks of blood along it as his eyes transformed into a blasted red, glinting dully in the dim light with malice.

I let out an involuntary gasp, though didn't move.

He was a demon!  
The demon only appeared disgruntled with my outburst, not angry or confused that his powers hadn't worked before the same malicious smile overtook his face and once again, he looked ready to pounce on me.

"You didn't expect some thing else, little girl? I thought I looked pretty good as a human myself?" he asked, viciously knowing his fingers into my cheek.

I clenched my teeth, working hard not to make any other noise as I looked at the wall behind him, glad that he wasn't trying to meet my eyes.

Suddenly, his scaly fingers were creeping up the bottom of my shirt, slowly moving and scratching bleeding lines along my stomach. I worked to stay still, fighting against the whimpers trying to be made as the scratches stung and bubbled with small droplets of blood.

He took the other hand and moved my red hair off my right shoulder and onto my left exposing the side of my face with the gauges from his nails. Lifting up his mouth to my cheek, he was nearing it, sudden layers of fangs and teeth exposed from within as I opened my mouth to scream.

Breaking out of the trance I wasn't sure if I had put myself in, I pushed him off of me, startling him enough to put a good distance between us. My hands flew up automatically to protect my now ripped shirt – as he had taken some fabric with him – and I crossed them over it. Fear laced through me, overpowered by some thing un nameable, some thing that made me wish I some thing in my hands besides the remains of the fabric I clung to.

"You-" he began, voice no longer the smooth and sickly of the man he wished to portray but morphed into some thing hissing and drawn out, "What are you?"

I baulked, trying to figure out what to say to delay his inevitable pouncing, though it didn't look optimistic by the seething anger in his ruby eyes and the transformations that had begun to hunch his spine.

"I'm… uh- a shadow hunter!" I told him, stuttering on the words and sounding far less sure of myself than I wished. The name sounded foreign on my lips as I tried to bring myself up to full height. I wished once again that I could remember some thing, anything to help me in this situation.

I was surprised though, when the demon laughed, tipping his head back to create the shivering sound. It was disgustingly high and wicked, some thing you'd hear in the scariest horror movies that Will, Chris, Zoe and I used to watch late at night on the nights leading up to Halloween.  
I was caught on the fierce nostalgia of missing my familiar friends, the comfort of innocence that I knew already wouldn't be found here.

"You?" he barked, breaking me out of my self-piteous moment, "A shadow hunter? No nephilim would be so dumb as to follow me with no weapons and no back up!"

_Nephilim?_ I questioned in my head, though I didn't let it show on my face. Brining a look of superiority on my face that could only be made from some unknown force I couldn't imagine, I forced myself to chuckle meekly at his comment, hoping it sounded as condescending as I could make it. Which admittedly, wasn't too hard considering how often I had heard the tone in the past few days.

It didn't turn out how I wish it though, which made me curl into myself a bit more, yet the demon still hesitated in his moment, looking oddly at me with some thing I couldn't identify in his look. Was that, fear? I grasped onto the notion as hard as possible, my mind rooting for more ways to stall. I knew that the only way I'd make it out alive was if one of the others actually turned to see if I was safe, which I doubted they'd do at that point. I hated putting my life in the hands of the ones who had made me miserable the past week and a half.

"Uh- No back up? No weapons? Do you think I'm that stupid?" I asked him, hoping to throw my voice the way I had heard Isabelle do the few times she had allowed her control to snap.

"I don't see any on you, didn't see any one following you," the demon accused, but hidden there was some thing I could barely make out, uncertainty? I hoped that was what it was.

"You think we would let you see us?" I asked, forcing out a laugh to counter his own. I hated how his eyes narrowed at the panic evident in my own laughter.

"You have no back up, do you?" he challenged, earning a swallow from me.

"What do you think?" I asked, putting as much I could into the words, hoping that I wasn't as wrong as both of us thought. Some how, the question I was asking reminded me impossibly of Jace, the returning of the question. I didn't even notice that it was an inkling of remembering at this point.

As the demon mulled this over, eyes scrutinizing me, I could hear voices outside the door, yelling. I cringed, hoping no sort of gang fight would try and lead their way into the room or anything. It was only when I recognized the impossibly high shriek of Isabelle that I knew what was happening and that I had to distract him.

"So, how many of you are here?" I asked, stepping forward. I cursed myself after the fact, though it seemed to do the trick as my own steps pulled the demon forward, to standing touching distance away.

I didn't even here his evading response, as behind him the door had opened slightly, revealing a tawny head that had my breath caught in my throat. It was only when he raised a finger to his lips did I realize the demon was done his speech and was once again looking suspiciously at me.

"Oh? And why did you come here?" I asked, aware of how pathetic I sounded even to myself.

He rolled his eyes, curling and uncurling those fingers that had made the blood which was still dripping slowly down my face. I watched out of the corners of my eyes as the three stepped in, hiding in the shadows. I knew why they didn't just step out, because then he would attack me, the obvious most vulnerable of the group.

"Is this really what you're doing?" he asked, taking a lethal step towards me, "pretending you have some one to come save you?"

He put on a mock pouting face, some thing I didn't think a demon knew how to do until now.

"Is it working?" I asked jokingly, realizing it as the wrong thing to say by the malicious glint in the demons eyes that he didn't really understand sarcasm.

A few more steps until he was right in front of me as the first time, his red eyes glinting full force into mine and his hand gripping my own arm so tight I could feel a bruise already forming to join in with the scratched on my stomach and cheek.

Behind him, Alec was gripping Jace hardly as Jaces face contorted and he began to bounce on his feet. I couldn't understand why though, he seemed almost… protective? It couldn't be. He hated me.

"You tell me," he challenged, referring back to my own words before his other hand suddenly swooped in, slashing across my chest into deep gauges that immediately began to ooze blood. I gasped backwards, though it wasn't from the actual pain, more from the sudden force as some thing knocked into the demon from behind, sending him away from me.

I only had time to see a distinctly blonde head raising a knife before I blacked out, the pain too much for me.

* * *

**Thanks again! :D**

**Charlotte.**


	12. His Control

**Hello everyone! This is just a little Christmas present from me to you! :) So give one back to me and review? ;)**

**Really though, this was written in 2 hours or so and I'm not elated over it but I'm not hating it either which is pretty good for me. That may also be because I'm tired and my whole body hurts from sitting in one position to type for the longest time. **

**Hopefully, as I'm on vacation, I'll be able to get out another chapter before the new year, though I can't promise everything. I'm on vacation right now in the warmth instead of the 5 foot snow that gave us 4 snow days last chapter I got out which is so nice I got inspired. This was surprisingly easy to write as well so it's looking good for all of you. I suppose you probably all think I'm incredibly lazy for not getting chapters out as fast as I could but honeslty, it's hard to explain. I don't not write but I'm insanely busy and I refuse to let out a chapter that I'm ashamed of. I know for chapter 10 it took me forever to get it out because I started it at least 5 times and got about 1,000 words done before I didn't like where I was going with it and had to stop. I get out chapters as fast as I can and though some times I'm just too uninspired or tired to write, most of the time it's just because I can't find what I'm going to write... or I fall asleep at the computer. I've done that more than once. ;) But this is it, after a purge writing session. Whoa. Rant over.**

**Merry Christmas! Happy Hannukah! Cheery Quanza! (Can't spell, sorry!)**

**P.S If anyone is interested in beta-ing, message me so I can have a little chat with you. ;)**

**P.P.S I don't own anything.**

* * *

I gasped and skittered backwards into the wall, the site of Jace lunging at the demon repeating through my mind like a DVD on loop. Alec and Isabelle hurried into the room themselves, many moments after Jace had entered, eyes deadly.

I was surprised when Isabelle moved to stand in front of me protectively, not as shocked when Alec moved to help Jace.

Jace didn't look like he needed help though, as he was currently straddling the demons hips, blade pointed at the mans neck and teeth barred. I couldn't help the shiver that went down my spine at the death in his eyes, the hatred so prominent I could feel it from across the room.

"What," he began, acid caked on each of his words, "do you think you were doing?"

At the end of his sentence he gave the knife a tiny shove into the demons neck, letting a trickle of what looked like heavy black blood leak onto the floor. The demon hissed, raising his neck as high as he could get it and showing off many pairs of pointed teeth to the blonde head seated on him. The smooth talking man was no longer there, replaced by the horrible gruesome creature in front of me, looking only in bloodlust and not in yearning as he had before.

He let out a horrible laugh, much akin to before which earned a small growl from Jace, though he didn't do anything.

"Kill it Jace," came Isabelle's disgusted voice, "There's no point teasing,"

To my curiousity, this didn't do anything to the demon that still looked amused and eager to kill. I watched as he struggled against the muscle that Jace held him down with, barely noticing the threat at his pulse point. More blood leaked out, connecting with Jaces wrist. I drew in a sharp breath when I heard his skin sizzling from the acid in it, but didn't do anything as Jace seemed not to notice, he was too focused on the being beneath of him.

"I asked you a question," he said, voice slightly calmer than before but still filled to the brim in scorn and hatred.

The demon chuckled again, the noise sounding slow and sinuous to me before he answered, wriggling as he did so.

"Just having some fun with your little pet over there," he announced, jerking his chin in my direction but failing to dislodge the weapon, "she's very pretty you know, would have proved to be a nice snack,"

I fingered the scratched on my cheek and stomach absently, feeling the shivers commence again up and down my spine.

"Jace," Isabelle began again, impatient when all Jace did was shift the knife.

"Shut _up, _Isabelle!" Jace roared, startling us all and earning even the two other trained shadow hunters to take several steps backwards.

I didn't miss the shocked and concerned look that passed between the siblings, letting me know that this was not the most normal behavior their foster brother had exhibited. They did nothing though, still standing at the ready and ignoring my presence as I slipped unconsciously to stand between them and get a better view of it. I was shocked to see that the usually stubborn Isabelle ahd pasted her mouth shut and only watched the scene.

Jace stared at the demon for a moment, before he brought his knife down to create a shallow cut down the length of his arm, barely suppressing the maniacal laughter brewing inside of him.

"How does that feel?" he asked, a sarcastic smile lighting his face, "like the scratches you left on her?"

I self-consciously placed my palm over my injuries, not knowing that he had noticed my blood staining the cool shirt I was wearing. He wasn't looking at me though, no, his gaze was only for the creature before him, as if he could fix all of his problems.

The demon howled as Jace dug in suddenly at his wrist bone, kicking and running his heels into the floor.

Alec gulped, taking a step forward and placing his hand on Jace. Jace flinched at the hand before whirling around, though still seated on the demon, and giving him a look so filled with pain that Alec took several steps away, eyes wide. Jace turned backwards, once again wearing some thing on his face akin to the need to destroy this demon, to cause pain. I resisted the urge to cover my eyes, not believing the man.

"How does that feel, huh? I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!" Jace screamed, breaking the demons wrist with a crunch that sounded as though there were many other bones involved as well.

Isabelle let out a muffled squeak and backed away also to sand beside her brother. Her eyes were wide and her mouth slack, unsure of what to do with her out of control adopted brother. I was left alone, the only one within distance but I found I could not move. My legs would not carry me away from this insane man.

"You're nuts, nephilim," the demon hissed, taking short gasping breaths and flicking out a forked tongue to wet his lips.

"Am I?" Jace whispered coolly, his voice terrifyingly void of anything, "maybe you'll think next time you or any one of you lays a hand on her,"

"Shadow hunter, we do as we please," the demon barked, "and now thanks to you she has a death wish on her head… or more like a torture wish,"

This didn't shock me for some reason, my mind following solely as Jace sat there, fury written plainly on his normally blank face.

He lunged forward suddenly, gripping onto the demons shirt with hands so tight his knuckles were turning rapidly white. His face was inches from the demons, his eyes burning and his mouth pulled so far over his teeth that his lips were now a faint bluish color. Though Alec and Isabelle were now so far away from him they were pressed up against the wall, I felt nothing but concern over the blonde haired angel leaning over a piece of hell.

"I am going to break each and every one of your bones until you are begging for mercy, then you can tell each and every one of your little hellion friends exactly how you feel about harming that girl over there, do you understand me you bastard?" Jace seethed, poising his hand threateningly over one of the monsters scaled and pointed fingers.

I didn't know what came over me but suddenly my hands were placed, one on Jaces shoulder and the other on his face as I crouched beside of him, ignoring my protesting injuries. Jace did not respond, now fitting the finger through two of his own but I only moved to apply gentle pressure to his chin to turn him towards me.

After what felt like a lifetime, tawny eyes met my own and I could feel my mouth moving, stumbling over words, anything to snap him out of the fit he was having.

"J-Jace," I whispered, my voice hoarse as I tried to control the fear coursing through me at his actions, "It's fine, I'm fine, just leave it alone,"

He fleeted a look at the creature, his eyes returning only reluctantly to me, roaming over my face slowly before meeting my eyes again. I took a deep breath and tucked a piece of hair behind my ears before replacing the hand back on his face, this time cupping his cheek. Taking a shaky breath, I forced myself to ignore the demon stuck underneath him and all too close to me, the one who had given me the slow bleeding cuts on my body.

"Please Jace, just stop it. Alec can kill it, just come with me and we can go home, okay? Does that sound alright?"

I knew I sounded like I was talking to a two year old but it seemed to be working as Jace grew slack in his hands though his weight still pressed it down. I let my eyes leave his for only a moment; scared he'd go back to the anger he had before. I only let myself motion the tentative Alec over before I began again my steady tones of reassurances.

Jace looked only tired and worn out now, as if the fight had hurt him more than the one beneath him as he allowed Alec to pierce the demon and he to stand up. He leaned heavily on me for a moment, before straightening out and only wrapping an arm around my waist. I paused in surprise, mid walking out of the storage closet but let it happen as the man beside me seemed so drained he had no idea what was going on.

Isabelle didn't smile at me, nor did Alec as they walked out too, they both shared glances and walked beside of us, warily to say the best. I tried to gather my feelings as we made our way out but everything was too wayward and everywhere to do anything about what was going on inside my head. Some where between going outside and hailing a cab, Jace had pulled away from me, looking as if I'd burned him.

He looked bewildered at me and his two siblings behind me before his eyes flittered towards the cab and he looked almost as if suffocating.

"I- I think I'm going to walk back to the institute," he finally said, turning and hunching his shoulders in order to walk home. I almost wanted to followed but simply slid into the cab.

* * *

When I awoke the next morning I still felt as though I hadn't slept at all. The scratches that had long since been healed by an iratze echoed in a sting that I dreaded might never go away and my head buzzed in the comings of a migraine. I groaned and rolled over in bed, ignoring the clock saying it was near noon. I couldn't be bothered to deal with any one that day, settling my cheek against the warm pillow, I prepared to drift off again when I heard a rustling.

Resisting a groan, I ignored the sound until it became so frequent I had to peek open an eye.

Then the other.

Then I had to lift up my whole head.

Followed by my body.

Until I shot out of bed and onto the person sitting down, staring at me with a comic book open on his laugh and a T-Shirt with a dorky saying adorning a pale body. Though I knew I should be angry that he'd ignored me. And I knew that this would only make my headache worse. I couldn't help the momentary glee that overcame me as I threw myself at my former best friend and knocked over the chair he had been occupying.

"Ah- Crud- Clary!" Simon complained, though I could hear the jesting in his voice that he was attempting to remain hard.

I laughed, the first time I had laughed in what felt like forever and rolled off of him, laying beside him and once again feeling perfectly in place next to his much taller thin frame.

"Hello Simon," I giggled, ignoring the inkling feeling in the back of my head that I was missing some thing. I pushed it down to that I was struggling to remain angry at him when he was the first semi familiar face I could recognize in awhile that didn't seem absolutely horrified to see me.

There was some grunting before Simon positioned himself on one elbow and smiled down at me.

"Hello Clary," he mimicked in the same girly tone I had used, "that was certainly a fond hello,"

I laughed, though the joke wasn't that funny and copied his position.

"Are you mad at me?" I couldn't help but ask, not helping the thinly veiled smile still playing on my lips.

He furrowed his eyebrows and I resisted the urge to ask him where his glasses were, maybe he'd finally gotten contacts.

"No Clary, why would I be mad at you?" he asked, letting the idea sound as ludicrous as he could possibly without adorning one of those funny accents he spent a year doing when he was a kid, convinced he'd become a famous actor and be in the new version of one of his favorite comic books.

I lost my smile, finally ceasing the rejoicing in our reunion and letting everything that had been worrying be crash through.

"Everyone's mad at me, Simon, did you loose the memo?" I asked sourly, letting myself fall back down onto the carpeted flooring and stare at the ceiling.

Simon didn't follow my lead, only sighed and sat up to cross his legs far too gracefully beside me when he'd usually have trouble with his lanky limbs. He was much too pale and had circles under his eyes as though he wasn't getting enough sleep. The lack of glasses was still unnerving to me now that I had let my blissful state go after only a minute and he seemed much different from my Simon, the Simon I remembered from my time in New York.

Suddenly sad, I waited for him to speak.

"Clary, it's… understandable why they're upset," he finally told me, looking uncomfortable.

"Is it?" I asked in the same tone as before, still gazing forlornly at the tiles on the ceiling and wondering what my final count of them was last night, though I couldn't remember… some ridiculously tedious number, no doubt.

"You left really suddenly with no note, nothing and everyone looked for you… and Jace… well Jace went a little nuts," Simon admitted.

Interest piqued, I only raised an eyebrow, knowing Simon could read me well enough to know what I was going to say.

"Well… apparently you and he had some sort of fight before you left and he thought you were dead until you showed up here. He got so reckless he would come home every night on the cusp of death and Magnus had to save him. He even got some sort of reputation amongst the demons about it for being an assassin or some thing else insane like that,"

Though I had guessed as much, I couldn't help the feeling of sadness that went through me.

"But Simon, what no one gets is that it wasn't me… or some one forced me!" I exclaimed, immediately returning on my defenses.

Simon looked suddenly sad where he was sitting, sad and old, as if the years had flown by in the decades instead of just barely the couple that had passed since I had had my memory wiped and left New York for California. Once again, I was overcome with the yearning for the memories I had lost, for information to fill in all of the blanks that were clouding around in my head needing some sustenance to fill them. I couldn't help the self hatred that flowed openly through me then, for some thing I had apparently done. Still though, I waited anxiously for the words my former best friend struggled to get out of his pursed lips.

"Clary," he began steadily, looking me softly in the eyes.

The brown eyes without the rounds of contacts, I noticed absently, some thing else that I didn't know about. Had it been surgery?  
"Clary," he repeated, continuing on in a slow voice meant for a toddler, "no one can be sure that some one actually forced you,"

I shot upwards suddenly, the weight of his accusation pressing onto my shoulders and making my head buzz even more than before. I took a moment, hand to head to let the room stop spinning before I turned my bewildered and glaring eyes onto Simon, flipping the hair that had fallen in front of my face off of my head.

"You can't believe that!" I said, my voice nearing a shout in my anger.

Simon took a deep breath.

"I don't know what I believe, Clary, for so long it was just known that you had betrayed us," Simon said pleadingly, attempting to reason with me.

"But how could you think that?" I demanded, struggling to get to my feet that Simon followed agilely, another difference since the time I'd been gone… or at least what I could remember.

"Clary," he said in exasperation, "Wouldn't you think the same?"

"No! I'd have more faith that some one who was supposedly my best friend wouldn't betray every one and hurt so many people!" I shouted, uncaring whether any one heard but only looking for the approval of some one, anyone to tell me that not all of the memories were bad.

Simon let out what sounded like a painful sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Clary, maybe it was easier to think that to imagine other reasons that you would leave us," he finally said, stuffing his hands into his pockets and letting out a weak shrug.

I bristled still, though I didn't reply and only walked stiffly over to my dresser to change out of my pajamas. I refused to look at Simon, who I had been so happy to see, and refused to acknowledge that he was still looking hopefully in my direction to turn around and talk to him. I only shuffled around in the drawers that were still full of my old clothes and began pulling out a simple tank top and a pair of jeans a long with the usual undergarments. Simon watched my busy hands for a long time, in which I was forced to pretend to search deeper to avoid having to turn around and head into the washroom to change.

It seemed like it had been forever until I heard the footsteps signifying Simons leave from the room. I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding and was about to turn when I felt a hand on my shoulder and whirled around and into the surprised arms of my best friend. I froze slightly, before melting into his hold. His arms felt comforting around me as I wrapped my own around his neck and rested my head on his shoulder.

"I missed you, Clary," Simon said, "even though you yelled at me,"

I laughed into his shoulder, the laughter intensifying when he began to rock back and forth so dramatically we almost fell down and back to the floor but just managed to stay standing.

"I missed you too Simon," I murmured back, suddenly feeling the embarrassing prick of tears at my eyes in which I willed them away only half successfully as my lower lip was now trembling against him.

"What's wrong, Fray?" Simon asked, teasingly using my old nickname.

"It's nothing," I began, only to be met with the insistent prodding of Simon to make me laugh once humorlessly and answer.

He stepped away from me to allow me room t answer.

"I- I just really miss everyone," I began, cutting him of when he began to answer again, "I know I'm technically with them now but… when I was in California I would hear this voices – no, not like that Lewis – and we seemed so carefree and so friendly. Then when you were hugging me just then and I thought of –"

"And you thought of Jace," Simon finished for me, thankfully looking still calm and slightly pityingly.

I nodded slightly.

Simon sighed and once again pulled me into a hug, letting me sink against him and get what little comfort out of the situation as I could.

"You've got yourself into quite a situation, Madame Fray," Simon said without humor.

"I've realized, Mister Lewis," was my only response.

* * *

**Nice intense angst and then some fluff. Honestly, as I was writing this I remembered poor little Simon. And no, Clary doesn't remember he's a vampire. **

**Charlotte.**


	13. His Savior

**I don't own anything.**

* * *

It was much easier to fit back into New York than it was to fit back into my previous life.

While the people and places of the life I'd lived before my memories had been wiped were bitter, hurt and cold, New York welcomed me as it did anyone else into it's arms as if I had never left.

These reminiscent thoughts were plaguing my mind as I strolled carelessly through the edges of Central Park, weaving in between bushes and trees continuously, the sound of laughter and the heat of the sun accompanying me. It was strangely comforting to be surrounded by noise and people instead of the loneliness that had been the Institute for quite some time. To most who knew me, they knew I usually didn't like crowds, yet I could settle for this slim crowd of tourists and children easily. Tucking my hands into my pockets, I threw my head back to catch a few rays of sun on my face as they filtered through the canopy of trees above me, sighing as I turned into a deserted area of the park.

The Institute was beginning to get depressingly empty nowadays. The three Shadowhunters had done nothing but ignore me lately and Simon could only meet me on days when he didn't have band practice or some other type obligation. I had a feeling with him that not everything was at it seemed, that he was keeping secrets. I didn't push it though, only pushed his responses aside though I was burning with curiousity. The only way I was able to do that without my need for information killing me was by reminding myself that he was doing me a favor for even talking to me! He was the only friendly face – beside the occasional Magnus visit – for me at the time and I needed to keep him as happy with me as I could. That wasn't the only thing I had to think about though, as by now my mother would be back from her art convention. I had wondered vaguely if she would call the police or anything, but pushed it aside quickly. She knew where I was, she had to, and the only measures she might take were to come down and get me she.

She hadn't showed up within the past few days though, giving me cause to believe that coming to New York wasn't in her near future. For all I knew she had moved to Alaska and changed her name. I had to admit though, with the current issue of her ruining my life and erasing my memories… well, I wasn't too worried about my mother right at that moment.

I was drawn from my thoughts by a rustling from the bush beside me. Whirling around to stare at the bush, I took several steps away from it, feeling stupid as I raised my hands up to guard my body from what was probably just the wind.

It wasn't the wind, though, I realized with a gasp as what looked like a pixie fluttered down from the trees. Even after I had blinked several times and shaken the hair from my face, the creature remained, now right in front of me.

_Didn't I hear them say something about pixie's being real?_

The tiny pixie looked like a girl, with a strange lilac tint to her miniature skin tone. She had long hair that floated down from her head, instead of ending though; it almost dissolved into sparkling dust as it flew. When it smiled, I was surprised to see sharp fangs protruding from the creature, though it looked painfully beautiful beside the teeth. She was wearing what looked like a gown of pieces of autumn leaves, the orange a strange contrast against her skin. The gown was skimpy though, and clung to her tiny frame, hugging it. I wondered how it stayed on; as there was no sign of stitching or anything holding it together that I could see. She was barefooted as well, her tiny feet kicking lazily in the air as she hovered before me. Her eyes were wide and had gold droplets leading from them down her body until they disappeared under her dress… like a trail of tears.

"Erm… hello," I mumbled, feeling the awkwardness of the situation begin to settle as the fairy just buzzed in front of me, regarding me coolly.

The fairy giggled, her small translucent wings fluttering slightly to keep her afloat as she regarded me, a hand coming up to twirl a tendril of her strange hair around a pin sized finger.

"Did you need something?" I attempted again, feeling irritation begin to creep into my voice to go along with the uncertainty.

"You aren't like normal shadow folk, are you?" the fairy said, her voice melodic and twinkling.

I resisted the need to roll my eyes as the words.

"I've been told," I muttered, aware of the fairy giggling once again at my words.

"I am Annesalyn, daughter of Cecilin and Cerberuss, sister to Amasyn and Amethyst, niece to Cane and Carlotta and loyal subject to the fair folk queen, and you?"

"Umm… Clarissa Fray? But I go by Clary," I supplied, feeling awkward at the long introduction. The fairy didn't seem taken aback though, as she laughed musically and did a quick tour around my head.

"What a silly name that is!" she called out to me, stopping just a bit to my left, holding something in her hand that hadn't been there before. Surprised, I raised an eyebrow at it, ignoring her guffaw at my look and resisting my urge to throttle the annoying thing as she did a few pompous flips before my face, holding what I now saw was a tiny berry in her hands.

"Are you hungry, Clary Fray?" she asked, "I picked this berry especially for you! It's from that bush over there, a fair folk specialty! I like you, Clary Fray, it would be my honor to bestow it upon you,"

I looked skeptically at the tiny bean, my instinct telling me to say no but the faint hunger that rumbled my stomach urging me at the same time to agree to it. I bit my lip as I thought, shifting awkwardly in my jeans and sweatshirt, feeling ridiculous next to this beautiful fairy. The fairy herself was regarding me with a look of expectancy, like the possibility of my refusing was impossible in her eyes. I watched as she pushed the berry closer to my eyes, waving it seductively in front of me and begging to quench my hunger. Reaching out a hand, I was just about to clasp my delicate fingers around it when a voice interrupted.

"Clary? Is that you?"

I whirled around, catching my feet before I fell in my clumsy state.

Before me was a girl who looked to be about my age, slightly taller with defined curves and tanned skin. She had wrapped the braids in her hair into a loose bun at the top of her head and was wearing a Superman T-Shirt and cut off jeans, grinning wolfishly at me. Standing only meters away, she didn't seem to see the fairy I had been conversing with, instead choosing to hurry forward and throw her arms around me in such unbridled delight that I found myself confused whether to be uncomfortable or touched. Slowly, she peeled herself off; she kept her hands firmly on my shoulders, her eyes roaming over me as the same canine smile engulfed her face.

"Where have you been? You look thin, pale. Just wait until I tell Luke!" the girl gushed, shaking me slightly in her excitement.

"Umm-"

"Come _on,_"

Turning back to look at the fairy, I was surprised to see her still there, in plain site of the girl attempting to drag me away. She didn't look innocent and tempting though, while she thought I wasn't looking her eyes were hard with greed and spite. Her tiny fingers had pinched talons and her hair was whirling around her dangerously. I turned away, taking several deep breaths as I pushed the image out of my mind, making sure to step on the berry she had dropped when the girl had lunged at me, feeling a sadistic smile grace my face.

I followed hesitantly, taking cautious steps thought he girl didn't seem to notice; keeping a hand resting firmly on my arm to guide me. It was only when she'd begun to hail a cab that I pulled my arm away jerkily and took several steps back. The girl was shocked at my sudden pulling away, reacting slower than I thought and raising both her eyebrows at me.

"Who are you?" I breathed, dreading the answer. If I didn't know her in my past life it was obvious I was in danger and if I did know her than it would be the Shadowhunters reactions all over again. Of course, I had no way to know in any sorts but that didn't mean I couldn't try to figure it out.

"What do you mean, who am I?"

"I don't remember who you are, who any one is," I admitted, needing to get it out in the open right away, "My memories were take- Umm… they're gone."

The girl quietly spluttered, her mouth opening and closing as she regarded me skeptically, finally growing quiet when she glanced at the serious look that had settled in my eyes. This time, when her eyes roamed over me, it was in a different light. I didn't think a girls face could change so much as it did then. No longer the welcoming, friendly smile was there, replaced with looks realization, comprehension and fierce anger. I forced myself not to sigh at what I had seen coming happen. At least I knew that she had known me before my memories had gone, as no one would react like she was reacting if they hadn't.

"That's why you left, isn't it? No wonder Luke's so far gone," the girl muttered, more to herself than to me.

I shifted uncomfortably, scratching at a spot on my arm and trying not to sweat in the heat of the sun as it pooled behind my knees on my palms. When I didn't respond, the girl took a deep breath and a step backwards, closing her eyes. I was only slightly happier when she opened them again, looking resigned though not angry anymore.

"Why did you do it? Why did you just give up?" she asked quietly, the venom I was used to gone and only curiousity in her voice, "I had you pegged as one of the strongest people I knew and then…"

I shrugged when she trailed off.

She shook her head, as if trying to clear her head of her thoughts, her eyes never leaving my uncomfortable face.

"Luke would probably like to see you anyway," she told me, "and he always says that you're always welcome back to our place- wait, you remember Luke, right?"

I nodded quickly, not trusting myself to speak quite yet as I waited for the girls mood swings to be done before I asked questions. Of course, I remembered Luke, how could I not? Yet, there was some thing hazy about my memories of him, as if some of them had a thick layer of smoke on them, muffling the sound and blurring the voices. I wasn't sure how I hadn't noticed it before now, while I was in California. I had thought of New York many times, and Uncle Luke had been joined with the thoughts of my home as easily as if he was home itself, so why hadn't I noticed the strange quality to the memories.

"Oh good, I don't think I would be able to handle it if you didn't," the girl said, smiling shakily.

She turned around to continue to hail a cab, leaving me slightly confused, before she whirled to face me again, making me jump a little before I settled.

She said simply, "I'm Maia, by the way, I was a friend of yours."

Feeling foolish and knowing not to say a 'nice to meet you' I simply nodded, avoiding her gaze at staring instead at my trainers. This was turning out that I had more of a hectic life than I had originally thought. I had never thought they'd I'd come to a point in my life where I would have to be reintroduced to everyone around me.

We pulled up in front of an old Chinese restaurant, their front sign blinking only two out of a dozen fluorescent lights. I couldn't help my disgruntled expression as we walked to the door, which obviously amused Maia as she chuckled dryly to herself before pushing it open for me. Unsure if I should thank her or not, I just nodded my head awkwardly and ducked in.

I almost wished I hadn't by the stares that swung around to my face from the numerous adults surrounding the room. They were both sitting and standing, many with drinks and all looking comfortable until they caught site of me. Overall, I got a tense feeling from the majority of them, as they struggled to hide emotions of awkwardness from me. Biting my lip, I studied my sneakers, feeling my small stature all over again compared to the muscles on every other occupant of the room.

"Nothing to gawk about, get on with yourselves," Maia announced from my side, making me jump as I hadn't realized she'd been standing there. And though her voice wasn't loud, it portrayed a harshness in itself that made many of the room turn back to their card games or conversation partners. Only a few continued to stare at me, not embarrassed when I looked up and caught then in their act.

"Just ignore them," Maia muttered, though she too looked a bit unsure of herself as she moved to lead me from the room.

"It's hard to when they're all staring at me like I'm some sort of –"

She caught my pause and looked up at me, a small smile lighting her otherwise grim face.

"Shadow Hunter?"

"Yeah," I muttered, chagrined.

She gave a dry laugh, but I couldn't help but interrupt her with a question that almost burst from my lips, "are we in a jail?"

Maia sent me a weird look, opened her mouth to say something, before she closed it and let out a large dramatic sigh, gazing at me as we walked out of the corner of her eyes.

"Yes but it's not used as a jail… unless we don't like you," she told me, her face completely serious.

I gulped, wondering if by the reactions in the room I would have ended up her if she hadn't spoken up for me. It was only when she cracked a grin that I realized she was joking and I gave her a weak smile back. She seemed disappointed somehow though, in a way I couldn't predict as she walked me towards the farthest cell but grabbed my arm before we could get there.

"Let me go and talk to him before you, okay?"

"Because of how he'll react?" I asked.

"No," she said, but averted her eyes from me, "it just might be a shock."

I didn't bother calling her out on her lies, only let out a wary breath and motioned for her to get on with it. Giving me a sheepish look, she slid in between the opening in the bars and disappeared from sight. The moment she was gone I felt all of my nerves leave me as I slumped against the closest wall.

Instead of nervous, I was just angry. I was angry and sad. It seemed that no matter the happy memories I had of my 'Uncle' Luke from before this supposed memory wipe had happened, I never knew that much about him. In fact, I never even knew about this place before Maia had brought me here. Hell – I hadn't basically followed a stranger into an even stranger place when all was said and done. I almost wouldn't be surprised if she came back with a chainsaw and the will to cut me into tiny pieces. Yet, something in me had made me follow her, had known that she was someone to be trusted.

'If only that part of me could tell me other things, more important things,' I thought impatiently, resisting the migraine growing at my confusing thoughts. No matter how hard I tried, it seemed that I couldn't bring myself to understand even the easiest things.

It was only when I heard a flurry of voices before silence, did I unhinge myself from my spot on the wall, not wanting Maia to see me for some reason of another. When she returned, I was glad to see that she looked fine, if not a little shaken and a flush of annoyance spreading over her cheeks. When her eyes found mine, she closed her eyes and took a calming breath, pasting a cheerful expression onto her face.

"He says you can come in," she murmured, jerking her thumb towards the cell and waiting as I followed her orders.

"Umm…" I paused before I hit the doors, "thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, just get on with it," she said, showing the first genuine bit of comfort in my presence since she'd realized that I didn't remember her. She lifted a tanned hand to wave me away, pretending to look scolding at my dawdling speed. I gave her as a form of another acknowledge, braced myself, and walked into the cell.

"Clary?"

The breath left me completely.

There, standing slowly from a worn desk chair, was a middle aged man, flecks of gray hairs already starting at his temples. His otherwise brown hair was ruffled and grungy, pushed off out of a forehead crinkled by the astonished look on his kind face. His glasses were almost falling off of the ends of his nose and those ever familiar blue eyes were gazing at me in such a way that I felt an intense relief beginning inside of me.

I could only nod, not trusting myself to speak as I watched his face turn into a slow smile and he walked around the desk. Finally, someone who seemed happy to see me besides Simon.

"Clary? It's really you?"

Another nod, a few more steps, leaving him standing straight in front of me. His hands wavered around my shoulders, as if he wanted to grab hold of them but was unsure if he should or not. He eventually decided too though, as he set them hesitantly down and stared into my eyes.

"Hey Uncle Luke," I finally murmured, embarrassed to find my eyes filling up with tears as the man pulled me into a bone crushing hug.

"Oh Clary," he breathed, "where've you been, kiddo?"

Waiting until her let go of me and we both sat down, I told him a brief summary of my time in California and relapse into New York, only stopping at my meeting of Maia and journey to this place. One thing that I noticed with content was that he didn't try and interrupt, like the same old Luke as always he simply remained quiet and waited patiently with his arms forming a temple in his lap. When I was finished, he took a slow breath, his gaze piercing into me. I was pleased to notice that there was still a certain warmness in him as he prepared himself to speak. It was admittedly a nice change from what I had grown accustomed to.

"That's quite a story," he remarked quietly, removing his glasses and beginning to clean them on the flannel shirt he wore.

I didn't respond, almost nervously watching his movements and hoping for acceptance.

"You know, it reminds me of the first time your memories were wiped," he remarked after a moment, raising his eye brows with the thought and my obviously shocked look.

"It's happened before?" I yelped, sitting up straight in my seat.

He sighed out an affirmative.

"It's not important the details though," he told me after I requested for the story of what had happened.

"How did I get them back then?" I asked, not being able to help the hope in my voice from leaking into my words. My thoughts turned immediately to the stupidity of how the others hadn't thought of this before I reasoned that they might not even have been involved with when it happened the first time.

The next words that Luke said though, had all the hope inside of me crashing down once again, as well as some I hadn't even known to be there.

"You didn't get them back Clary, they were lost to you forever,"

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**


	14. His Spite

**I don't own anything. And here you are. (:**

* * *

I wasn't sure how long I stood there, my eyes trained on the bland wallpaper and my mouth open in both shock and horror. It was only when I dropped backwards into the hard backed chair that I was able to stutter out a quiet, "N- No, that is not true."

The words sounded false even to my own ears, as if I had given up the hope of them before they'd been spoken. Not being able to bear Luke's sympathetic gaze, I hunched my shoulders over, dropping my head into my hands. It was quiet then, save the ticking of the tacky owl clock above his desk. Through the walls, I could hear laughter and conversation from those I had passed. It seems they'd forgotten my entrance already. I liked it, not affecting anyone, it was a pleasant change from what my life seemed to have become.

After that moment, the rest was just a blur. I'm positive that we talked for a long while more but I can't remember how I got to be walking back into the institute, my eyes trained on my shoes and an overall shadowy demeanor over me.

It reminded me of my first weeks in California, before I'd become good friends with Chris, Will and Zoe. I had walked as if I had weights on my shoulders, they often told me, and I never made eye contact with anyone. I had been simply miserable and I hadn't been afraid to let everyone around me see it.

I knew it would take more than friendly words and days in the sun to heal me this time. I wasn't just losing New York now, I was accepting that my memories were gone forever. No chance of ever retrieving them. Luke's words repeated themselves over and over in my head until they seemed to have lost meaning, the way chants always did if you say them long enough.

I thought of the pictures I'd seen, the faces that had been smiling from them. I thought of Jace, and how we'd been so close to each other in this place called _Idris_. Of how he looked at me with adoration in his eyes and I returned his look. I couldn't understand how I hadn't noticed it with Will before. I couldn't understand how I hadn't felt emptier in our relationship without that same passion. Even if I couldn't remember it ever occurring, there was still a ghost of it inside of me and it was enough to make me wonder how thick I was only a week ago. You'd think that after experiencing it, I would be able to tell when it was absent from a relationship. Will was more a brother to me, I could easily admit. He was comfortable whereas Jace was dangerous. He was breezy whereas Jace was intense. His kisses were meaningless, easily thrown away whereas Jaces were unattainable now. Will was familiar. Jace was uncharted territory.

Well, he had been charted once, just once that I would never remember.

Like the shadow I had been the past couple weeks, I walked quietly inside the place. My footsteps were dim, barely there and I stuck to the darker parts of the corridors instinctively. I found that many times I could pass right beside one of the three and they either would not notice me or just would not care. While it might have saddened me, any other day, their uncaring attitude. Now, it only made me grateful. I did not want to talk to anyone. In fact, I wasn't sure what exactly I wanted to do except wallow up into a ball of self pity and stay there until a memory saving miracle was performed… not that that was likely.

It was in my reverie that I ran face first into a body that had been turning the corner ahead of me. Firm hands grabbed onto my arms, steadying me. I hesitantly glanced up, though I would know that long fingered grip anywhere. When I met impatient tawny eyes, I wasn't the only one to pull back, though his was more in what I could guess was disgust than anything else. Not in the mood for any of the usual hostility, I just waited for him to pass.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, his eyes rolling over my face.

I lifted a hand automatically to touch my cheeks. Weird. I hadn't realized I'd been crying.

"Nothing," I murmured, trying to push past him and hide my face at the same time.

Unsurprisingly, a hand on my wrist stopped me. My body gave a shiver at the contact he made, even if I wasn't exactly in the mood. I did not turn around, I couldn't look at his face and know that I'd never get back all of our sweet moments, that I would never get another chance to run my hands through his silky hair, to look into his eyes and not see the coldness that filled them now.

Stifling more tears that threatened to erupt inside of me, I pulled my arm away from his loose clutch and began half walking, half jogging down the rest of the corridor.

I expected – I wanted – him to leave and to continue on like he'd been doing and ignore me completely. If anything, the fact that he cared enough for me to hear his graceful footsteps in my pursuit, just made me more upset.

"Clary," he snapped out suddenly, grabbing onto my shoulder and whipping me around, non too gently, "what's wrong?"

I hated the obligation evident in his voice. He felt he _had _to ask, I could tell.

Even though I could see the frustration rising in his eyes, I couldn't help but repeat my reply from early and refuse to meet his gaze. A small gasp met my lips the moment he gripped my chin in one of his rough hands and jerked it harshly upwards so I was forced to look at him.

"Tell me," he repeated, his voice unyielding.

I wrenched myself away from his almost painful grasp, though I didn't remove our gazes.

"Why should I?" I hissed, the sudden anger coming as I became defensive. "You've done nothing but make it obvious that you don't give a damn about me since I got here so why should I tell you what's wrong, now?"

Jace didn't look upset at my pointed words, in fact, they seemed to satisfy him in some dark way. For once, there was something else behind his hard exterior, something bitter.

I moved once more to try and escape this impending argument. The expected hand shot out to grab onto my elbow this time, and spin me around once again.

"I haven't made it obvious," he retaliated, before adding after a moment… "In fact, I thought I've done a pretty good job of keeping it under wraps."

I narrowed my eyes at his audacity. Something stirred in me at this remark - not the remark itself, but the way he'd said something so… vexing at the first real conversation – argument – we'd had in days. While I was boiling in my irritation, he seemed completely at ease with the conversation, as if I'd asked where we kept the spare towels or something.

"Would you just let me pass?" I barked, not caring to be talking to him anymore, out of anger instead of hurt this time.

"Nuh uh. Not until you tell me what's bothering you." he replied in a sing song voice. The moment might have been refreshing against the harshness of the days before if not for my fowl mood.

"At this moment, what's bothering me is you!" I barked, throwing my arms across my chest.

He simply chuckled at my insult, taking a step closer towards me.

"Am I bothering you, Clary? Am I really?"

I didn't notice his proximity at first, responding bitingly.

"Yes, you asshat, you are!"

His smirk grew into a smile at this, bitterness laced inside it. Warily, I uncrossed my arms over my chest and then knotted them together in front of me in an effort to try and control my still raging temper. I glared at his almost happy demeanor. I wish he could have been in this good of a mood rest of the week, that way he might not have caught me the one time I wasn't in the mood to talk to him without him acting like I was the bane of his very existence.

"Tell me you hate me Clary," he whispered, suddenly, still holding that infuriating half smile one his face.

I sucked in a sharp breath at how close I realized he had become – he must have advanced without my noticing as I could now see the tiny flecks of lighter gold in his eyes as well as the same dimple I had drawn what felt like months ago, in my art glass with Mr. Quince.

"I- I can't do that," I muttered, wishing I could avert my gaze, drop my eye contact, anything to avoid that greedy look in his gaze.

He gave a small, resentful laugh.

"Fine," he said nonchalantly, "then tell me you love me."

I remained quiet a this, not knowing what to say. I was too confused about my feelings right now to try and put them into words and I would not, _could not_, talk about them now, in the middle of an argument. At least, It thought it was still an argument. I couldn't be sure anymore, as the anger had all but left me to be replaced by confusion. I wished he'd back up, as my legs seemed to be unmovable at the moment.

He chuckled dryly.

"You never could do that."

I felt a blush rise to my cheeks at that comment. I wished I could remember where his words had come to, what long ago conversation we must have shared.

He was too close to think. I could hear his sharp breaths close to me, almost feel them against my flushed cheeks. His hands hovering between me and him, as if testing himself. I closed my eyes, turning my head away from him. He laughed then. It was a horrible laugh, with no joy, no happiness but only spite. With him so close to me, I could feel his breath as he chuckled, could watch as he backed away. I didn't look up, studying the ground instead and taking slow calming breaths.

I knew he was gone only when I couldn't hear his suddenly laboured breaths as he rounded the corner and out of sight.

Miles away, Jocelyn Fray entered her house with a large fake smile and a duffel bag slung around her slim shoulders. Pushing open the screen door, she dropped her bag onto the hallway floor. Lifting a hand to massage her aching shoulders, she called out tentatively to her daughter, waiting for a reply. Nothing.

Ignoring the inkling of paranoia, she managed to convince herself that Clary was just out with Will or one of her other friends. It wasn't uncommon when Jocelyn had to go to a convention that she would just stay at the twins house. _'She's safe now,' _she reminded herself persistently, _'she's away from them.'_ Pushing the thought from her mind, she moved to the blinking telephone. Maybe she'd called to leave a message on their own machine as she sometimes did.

Jocelyn stopped short. 17 messages? How long had Clary been gone? She'd have to talk to her about coming home at least once a day to make sure the place was fine. She jabbed a button on the machine, walking to the kitchen as the signature beep began, she opened the fridge to search for something to fulfill her hungry stomach.

"_Hey Clare-bea- Um, Clare, I mean_._" _The crisp male voice began, one that Jocelyn recognized as being her boyfriends_. "Listen, we're all still kind of freaked that you won't return our calls and that you just blow up and go all spazzy and then… well, peace out. Could you please call me, err- one of us back? Thanks."_

Shooting upright, Jocelyn tensed, her mind already whirling with anxiety. She could only bring a stunned hand to her mouth as the rest of the messages played, all but two telling her mostly the same thing. Jocelyn couldn't decide between anger at her daughter or guilt at herself. She'd thought that after she'd done it it would be like when Clary was young, she'd feel no remorse as she was only keeping her daughter safe, giving her a childhood. Yet, this time around she was plagued with guilt, all the time.

It was almost comical, every time she closed her eyes for even a second she saw her daughters friends in her mind. Not the ones in California, but her _real _ones. The Lightwoods, Simon, the warlock Bane and even, Jace. Though, she had dragged them to this new world to be safe from the threats posed, the shame dug at her so much there wasn't room for happiness.

It can still be fixed though, she convinced herself, they could be safe once more.

Clary couldn't have gotten her memories back all at once, maybe not even at all. Yes, maybe she had just found something in the attic or something about their old life. Jocelyn just had to find her and a capable warlock and everything would be fine. She could live with the guilt if it meant that _he _didn't come for her baby.

Yes. It would all be fine.

With this, Jocelyn moved towards her bedroom. She only had to grab a few more things and then she could leave. To New York. To find Clary and bring her back here, where it was safe.

Luke was sitting in his quarters, his head held in his hands. The room hadn't moved since Clary had been there, her scent still lingered in the air, only perceptible because of his werewolf senses. The man looked beaten down, tired, his plaid shirt hanging off of a thinner body. Yet, his cool eyes were still the same as always, calm and steady, even with the raging migraine battling him.

He jumped when the phone rang, the shrillness much to loud in the otherwise silent headquarters. His pack had seemed to sense the morose feeling in the air, and doing as they often had to in the past few years, they'd remained quiet for their despairing leader. If Luke was anything, it was respected by his pack.

Tiredly, Luke picked up the phone and offered a half-hearted greeting. He could only guess it was some one mistaking their address once again for a Chinese food place. Once, it had seemed funny, but now it only made Luke very, _very _tired.

"Luke," the voice at the other end breathed.

The werewolf sat up in his seat, his whole body going rigid.

"Jocelyn," he responded in the same neutral tone, even though his body was singing in natural delight at hearing her voice.

There was pause on the other line; a deep breath against the sounds of many other voices before she spoke again, "Is Clary there?"

Luke had choices, he knew. Choices between honoring his loyalty to Jocelyn or to her daughter. One side of him was screaming to say yes, just to be able to maybe see the woman again in the flesh. He'd been devastated when she left him again, this time he knew he wouldn't be able to find her. Yet, another side of him said no. What she'd done was despicable, a second time too. He himself had also seen what it did to everyone that she'd left behind. What it had done to the Lightwoods, particularly one Lightwood. They raged inside of him.

"Luke? Is she?" Jocelyn asked, her voice having an edge of motherly fear that tore at him.

Luke took a slow breath. It was an easy decision, one he'd been making his entire life and would continue to make now.

"She-"

Jace heard the footsteps before her heard the knocking. He didn't respond, only lay on his bed. In the past months, when Alec or Isabelle would come to the door he'd pretend to be busy, to ease their worry. He couldn't be bothered to now, just as he couldn't be bothered to answer. They'd leave if he waited long enough. Plus, he'd long ago learned that the bland white ceiling tiles were much more interesting than anything they would have to say to him.

The knocks came again and Jace still lay immobile.

One more time and they'd be gone, he promised himself.

But they didn't stop, this time getting louder until it sounded like whoever it was behind the door was laying a fist into it. Impatiently, Jace pushed himself off the bed, padding barefoot towards the door. What could be so damn important that they couldn't just go away?

It was just as another set began, even louder than the rest, that Jace swung open the door, making the first – he'd guessed right – stop right before it slammed into his neck.

He went rigid, his face going from impatient to blank almost immediately.

"What do _you _want?"

"Well, thank you, Luke." Jocelyn murmured in resignation, "Goodnight."

"Wait! Is that all I get, Jocelyn?"

There was no sound on the other line, letting the sharp sounds of an airport intercom be heard over the phone. Luke shook his head tiredly, how could he have expected anything less? She'd gotten what she wanted and now she would just leave, once again.

"What else do you want, Luke?" she said calmly, irking the man in a way that only she could do.

"What else do I want?"

He couldn't begin to tell her what else he wanted. He wanted her to be here, with him. He wanted her to talk to him before she mad such horrible decisions concerning her life. He wanted her to love him as he loved her. He'd thought she did once upon a time, but her leaving only convinced him otherwise.

No, Jocelyn Fairchild never loved him. He knew that now.

She said nothing. It was only the background noise that convinced Luke she hadn't hung up on him.

"You never learn, do you Jocelyn?" he asked with no malice… only wariness.

"I suppose I don't, Luke, I suppose I don't."

The reply stunned him, but he said nothing. He knew then that he had made the right decision.

"I hope you find her, Jocelyn," he lied.

He was the one to hang up the phone, this time.


End file.
